


The Arc of Fate

by Verdic



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-02-28 17:30:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18761098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verdic/pseuds/Verdic
Summary: 200 years ago, the Upheaval shook the world. The evil gods rose up with the support of most of humanity and nearly conquered the world. The war was bloody and won at high cost to the good gods and the other races. Now, most of humanity has been enslaved by the other races to prevent them from rising up again. This is the setting in which Arcturus Finch, a human with innate magical abilities, finds himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on the drawings done by @LluisAbadias on Twitter. He is the artist for Retroverse, and was doing pin ups of many classes and monsters, but none of them human. When he finished the Paladin, I knew I had to write a story with her. I also wanted to put a reason as to why none of them were humans. This is a world I have run before in D&D, and this has just given me a reason to revisit the world and write fic in it.
> 
> Please note that this will be a smutty fic. There will be a lot of plot and action, but equal amounts of smut. Due to the nature of the world, not all of it will be completely consensual. As it will be pervasive, I will not warn people before every chapter with smut. This warning is for the entire works. 
> 
> Also, please follow @LluisAbadias and support his art. He is fantastic.

Arcturus Finch flinched as the whip cracked near his head. He walked forwards, the chains around his ankles keeping him from moving at more than a shuffle. He had gotten used to the shuffling gait he had to take so he didn’t fall too far behind and hit the slave behind him on the chain nor too fast so that he didn’t bump into the slave in front of him. It came easy to him after twenty years of being a slave. He looked at the other slave lines. 

Everyone in the slave lines was human, which didn’t surprise him. For the past two hundred years, only humans had been made slaves, barring the odd prisoner of war or judicially sentenced criminal. During the Uprising, a majority of the human race had joined with the evil gods to try and overthrow the order of the world. Those humans who refused to join the dark gods were either overrun and destroyed or fled into the wilds. 

Among the slaves, there were two main schools of thought. The first was that those who fled were wiped out, that the only free humans are those who were freed by grateful masters. They were in the majority, a race of people happy to appease their masters in the faint hope of freedom. The other school believed that those who fled were still out there in the wilds, building up their numbers to rise once again. These were often the slaves who ended up being sold to the mines, roads, or arenas. They tended to only last long enough to spread their poisonous rumors of freedom and hope to others.   
Arcturus’s line was led into a concrete room with a drain in the floor. On one side of the room was a large fountain. From the far end of the room, a lanky and ragged looking elf walked in. They were dressed in a stained Bhorgull guard uniform. “Against the wall, hands and legs splayed.” His voice was slightly slurred, as if he had been drinking to get through this assignment. The elf shook his head to clear it. “No moving when the mage gets here. You scuts are going on sale, so look happy, clean, and healthy unless you want to be sold to the mines.”

The slaves waited, hands on the wall and legs splayed. None of them wanted to be whipped again. As they waited, the loose, thin shifts were ripped from their bodies with rough, lizard-like hands. Once they were all naked, silence fell again. Arcturus heard a small murmur from behind them and a stream of water hit the group. He could smell the astringent of the crude potash soap being used on them to scour away the sweat and grime from their bodies. After a few minutes of being slammed with water, the stream stopped. A wind started blowing through the room, chilling the humans to the bone as it dried them off.

“Now that you scuts are presentable, get moving, we need the next group to get clean.” The same elf barked at them. Turning, Arcturus saw a plump elf by the well, her mages symbols clearly visible on her guard uniform. Leading them from the room was a group of four Saurians, all of them in standard guard uniforms. The elf that barked at them remained in the room with the mage, handing her a flask. 

Arcturus wasn’t able to see more as the chain was led out of the room and out into the market square. He moved his hands in front of him, trying to provide a small amount of modesty to his frame. Looking around, he saw that half of the slaves were trying to cover themselves while the other half had given up. 

“Welcome all!” A brown-haired dwarf stepped onto the stage the slaves were being presented on. “During the Flower Festival, we will not just be having a slave sale, nor will we be even having just an auction, but we will be holding a Blade Auction!” The people in the area gave a cheer when they heard this. “Yes, on this week of festivities to commemorate the end of the Uprising and the fall of the dark gods and humans, we will be holding a Blade Auction. Choose your champion, place your bid, and win money or watch them die!” The dwarf worked the crowd into a frenzy. He waited for the noise to die down before going on. By this time, two more chains of slaves had joined them. “Come, take a look and choose! Will you buy for yourself, or bid for the enjoyment of us all?”

Each of the chains was led to a different area of the festival grounds, each group of ten slaves was led by a sergeant and five guards. A clerk followed each of them, in case anyone decided to purchase or bid on any of them. Staked out in a loop of festival stalls, the slaves were left to warm their naked bodies in the sun. 

Arcturus looked around, taking in the view all around him. It was a warm summer day, and most people were wearing as little clothes as they were able to get away with, enjoying the warm air, the gently glowing sun, and the libertine nature of the festival. Despite this, the only nudity was with the slaves. After they had waited for nearly ten minutes, the first group came up to examine them. It was a mixed group of elves. They looked over the slaves, laughing and giggling the whole time. Five more groups, three of elves, one of dwarves and halflings, and a final group of saurians all came.

During this time, three of the other slaves had been purchased by an elderly, noble looking elf. He had a severe look about him, and his guards immediately started moving the slaves away once they were purchased. Four of the remaining seven were auctioned for the Blade Auction later the next day. They were led away to the special rooms prepared for the fighters. 

As the sun was setting, only three slaves remained from the group. Arcturus looked at his remaining companions. One was a frail looking man, standing five foot eight, who seemed to have no meat on his bones and lank black hair. The vague outline of his ribs and hips could be seen against his dark skin. He sagged as he held the empty chain behind him. Arcturus knew he wouldn’t last long in the mines or quarries. His other companion had a mean glint to his black eyes, scars along his hair covered arms and chest. The man stood nearly six feet tall, well-muscled with long black hair showing against his tanned skin. From what he had heard, this man was the murderous type. Arcturus would have been amazed that the man hadn’t been chosen as a fighter, except he knew that if the fighter survived, the person who had auctioned for him would own him. 

Arcturus wasn’t sure if he was happy he wasn’t chosen or not. He had no desire to work in the mines or quarries. He also wasn’t keen to be in the arena either. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror of a dressmaker a few feet away. He stood just under five seven, the smallest of the three left. He had nut brown hair, or would if it hadn’t been shaved off his head. His body was nearly hairless, only the faintest of brown hair on his chest and arms. While his muscles had been well defined from working on a large plantation farm, the last month they had been doing nothing but trudging from one stop to the next on bare rations, causing him to lose muscle mass. He could see the faintest outline of his ribs. His skin was tanned, but still lighter than both of his companions. 

“Are you closed for the night?” A voice asked. Arcturus dragged his eyes away from the mirror to look at the newcomer. It was a large Firlbog. She stood nearly eight feet tall. On her back was a shield made of a turtle shell, and a large bone hammer hung at her hip from a wide belt. Like the other festival goers, she was wearing very small shorts and a cropped tank top that accented her assets without revealing anything. The left side of her head was shaved, with the remaining, ear length hair dyed neon greens and blues. 

“And you are?” The halfling clerk asked.

“I am Djarjage Evergreen, Knight Errant of Ydgril.” The woman said, looking over the three remaining slaves. “Is this all that is left here?”

The clerk quickly placed his mobile desk back on the ground. “Of course we’re still open for one of the Templars! I am so sorry, unfortunately, this is all we have left. There is a Blade Auction today.”  
“That makes sense.” The woman said, walking around the group. “Why have these not been chosen?” Her mouth seemed to be set in a permanent frown. The clerk fidgeted, but finally relented under the templar’s gaze. 

“The dark one is in poor health. No one wants a slave they have to nurse back to health.” The paladin looked him over. She pulled his head up to look in the man’s eyes. The moment her hand was gone, his head fell back down. “No, it’s not a disease, just a fragile slave.” The clerk looked at the tallest one. “This one is very fit and skilled. So skilled that he has taken to use his skills on his fellow slaves and even one of the guards. He is not for sale, only for the Blade Auction.” The paladin looked him in the eyes. The man returned the gaze and spat on the ground in front of her. That earned him a lash from the whip the sergeant carried.

“And the last one?” The paladin stood in front of Arcturus, crouching down so she didn’t have to look at him around her chest. She looked him in the eyes. Her eyes were a deep moss green turning to violet before getting to her black pupil. They held each other’s gaze until the clerk finally replied. 

“He’s dangerous.” The paladin laughed, a warm sound that fell deafly on Arcturus’s ears. “I’m serious. Random things happen all around him. Unless we bind him in enchanted locks, people tend to get sick or die around him, his chains tend to rust or pop open, and he gets a weird look in his eye.”

“Really? What’s your name?” She held his gaze.

“Arc…Arcturus Finch.” He replied, keeping his hands in front of him. 

She rolled his name around her mouth. “Do you have combat experience?” He shook his head. “From the plantations then?” He nodded. He wasn’t sure what type of person she was, and it was safer to reply with a nod or shake of the head than speak when not given a direct order or questioned in a way that required a spoken reply. 

“I am sorry to say, Templar Evergreen, but the time for purchasing slaves is, legally, over. We only had a permit till sundown today.” The clerk nervously explained. “If you want one, we can hold our departure a little tomorrow. But, if you want to enter one into the Blade Auction, we can still do that.”

“Hmmm. Well, I think I will take Arc here. I will pay the entry fee, plus an additional ten Scales.” The clerk and guards blanched as she put down a large sum of money on Arcturus. 

“Well, it is not on us to say how a Templar should spend their wealth.” The clerk said, filling out the forms and taking the payment. The extra money was handed to one of the guards. “Take him to the competitor’s wing. Do not remove his manacles and hand this to the Game’s Master’s clerk.” 

As the guard led Arcturus away, Djarjage followed them, tucking the sales sheet into one of her front pockets. “There’s no need to follow, ma’am. I’ll make sure your investment is unmolested.”

“I know. I'm not concerned that someone else will molest him, guardsman.” The Firlbog moved up so she was next to Arcturus. “I’m just here to make sure that my investment knows what an opportunity he has.” The guard nodded. “Do you understand what you are supposed to do tomorrow.” Arcturus wasn’t sure how to answer. “Speak up. I will not have you be silent when I ask you a question.”

“I…I do not know what you expect.” He replied. The Firlbog stopped short. Arcturus tried to stop without passing her, but was a step behind. Before he could back up, he felt her hand on his shoulder. It was large enough that it also wrapped part way around his neck. 

“I expect for you to survive tomorrow. I need a porter, among other things. And if you have magic, as the clerk insisted you do, you will be very valuable to me.” She brought her face close to the side opposite her hand. “You will fight, and you will survive. Remember, do whatever it takes to survive.” She chuckled as she let him go and walked away.

After she left, Arcturus was thrust into a small cell. There was a pallet along one wall with soft blankets and a bedpan. Arcturus went to the sheets and felt them. Real linens. He had never felt anything so soft. He checked on the bed. The only piece of clothing was a thin belt with a small pouch only to cup his crotch. He sighed as he looked at the thong they provided for him. 

Not only was this whole situation infuriating, it was insulting. He knew his ancestors deserved this treatment. They had tried to subjugate all of the other races and he did believe that turn around was fair. But that was two centuries ago. Even his grandfather’s grandfather hadn’t been born at that time. But as he looked at the elf guarding the hall, he remembered that humans were a fairly short-lived race, compared to some of the others. Based on the age lines around this elf’s face, she had lived through the Uprising. 

He dropped his head in his hands, trying not to cry. The manacles were still on his wrists and neck. They kept him from building his power. He knew that if he could summon his power, he could do something. As the light from the setting sun gradually faded, Arcturus finally laid down, thinking he might as well enjoy one night of comfort before he died in the arena tomorrow.


	2. In the Arena

Arcturus woke groggily the next morning. The sun glared into his face and he rolled over. He heard no voices yelling at him to stand or serve or work, and he was adamant to get as much sleep as he could. With his eyes closed, he tried to find sleep. The sunshine warmed the thin blanket he pulled over his head. The birds chirped in the courtyard, a sweet and relaxing melody. No matter how Arcturus tried, sleep would not come. 

Finally, he decided he would not waste more time just lying there. Pushing himself up, he used the chamber pot and got dressed in the small amount of clothing that had been left for him. He stood at the bars, looking to see if anyone was around. The hallway was empty. No guards walked the hallway, no other slaves leaned against their cell doors. The cell opposite him was empty. He was about to speak when he saw a figure slinking down the hallway, trying to keep out of sight. 

The diligence of this figure intrigued Arcturus. Why would anyone care to sneak in here? Maybe they wanted to mess with the competitors, even some odds. But then where was everyone else? He watched as the figure stopped by his door on their travel. 

“Good morning.” He said, not really sure what he was doing. The figure jumped, skittering away and falling to the floor in a flutter of cloaks. Boots and gloves scrabbling on the floor, the figure stood back up. The hood had fallen away from their head, exposing a thick mop of bleached blond hair and slightly pointed ears on oaken colored skin. Black eyes, like shards of obsidian, glared at him.  
“Quiet!” The figure hissed at him. “How are you still awake!”

Arcturus knitted his brows together. “I couldn’t get back to sleep.” He answered slowly. What was this person up to? He looked them over to try and get a better understanding of them. They were a few inches shorter than Arcturus, but other than that, the cloaks obscured the rest of their body from the eyes down.

The figures brows knitted together in confusion. They shook off what they had been thinking. “Why are you still in chains? You a killer?”

He looked at the manacles still around his wrists and felt the one around his throat. “It’s more for everyone’s protection, even mine. Things seem to…happen around me.”

The figure nodded. They were silent for long enough that Arcturus was about to question if they hit their head on the way down. He looked around. Their conversation was the only noise around, and he wasn’t trying to be quiet. Still, no one had come to investigate the noises. “Can you do anything about this?” He pointed to his manacles. 

“Yes.” They stated simply. Reaching into a pouch, they held out a small bird shaped talisman. Arcturus took it. 

“What is this supposed to do?” He asked, examining it. It was an intricate carving of a bird wreathed in flames. It was made of some sort of reddish iron, with small tracings of a purple metal. The eyes were made of the same metal.

“That will suppress the magic of the collars you wear.” The figure spun their hand in a circle. “Well, that’s not what it’s meant to do, but that is one of the effects. Just, don’t put it on until you get in the arena, and make sure it’s back off before they come for you.”

“Why?” Arcturus jumped as he looked up. The figure was gone. He quickly looked both ways down the hall. He noticed a guard, this one an orc, standing watch to the left and what looked like a satyr to the right. Both were in regular guard uniforms; long black pants and shirt, with a silver tabard over the shirt and drifting to the knees. Birds were chirping in the courtyard, a few even flying into the hallway. 

“Keep it quiet down there.” The orc shouted. “You know why your kind can’t be trusted.” 

Quickly, Arcturus wrapped the chain around his waist and tucked it under the cloth band, making sure the metal bird was in front. It felt sacrilegious to do that for some reason, but he would rather that than being killed for having it. He threaded his arms through the cage door of his room. He watched as a small group of guards with a large pot between them and a stack of bowls and spoons. 

“Breakfast. We need you all full and energized to give a good show today.” Another orc laughed cruelly. “Personally, I would have you fight on empty stomachs, only getting food if you live.” There was a clomp as a full bowl was dropped on the ground. Looking out, Arcturus saw them filling the bowls and dropping them from nearly four feet in the air. Some of the humans were catching the bowls, most were having to scrape up the food from the floor. 

As they came to Arcturus, the lead orc slammed a wooden baton across the bars. Reflexively, Arcturus backed up, taking a few steps back from the door. He watched as the saurian handing out the food dropped his bowl to the ground. Acting instinctively, Arcturus reached out to the bowl as if to catch it. Ethereal green sparks ran between his fingers as he summoned a small breeze below the bowl, arresting its fall. It still thudded on the ground, but it remained upright. 

Everyone looked at the bowl, having not seen the summoned magic. They had expected it to crash and for him to run forwards to get it. But as it landed upright, they all looked on in disbelief. Not wanting them to take too much time with the chore, the orc bellowed at them to move on, stepping on the side of the bowl as if he forgot it was there. Most of the porridge splashed away from the cell.

Arcturus picked up the bowl. There was barely two mouthfuls left. His stomach rumbled and pinched as he remembered he hadn’t eaten since the previous morning. He quickly shoveled what food remained into his mouth, greedily lapping at the bowl and his hands until there was no food left uneaten. The porridge did nothing to slake his hunger, only whet it. It was only the feel of the metal around his wrists and neck that kept him from trying to grab the food that had been spilled. 

His cheeks burned with rage at his condition. He had been happy to remain on the plantation. His family was there. His friends were all there. While the work on the plantation was never ending in the ever-warm lands to the south, he had not minded because he wasn’t alone. Here, he was alone. Huddled in his room, he tried to find something to focus on other than his rumbling stomach. 

Surreptitiously, he pulled out the amulet and looked at it in his lap. The more he looked at it, the more it looked like the symbol of some god. He could see that the purple metal made a wound in the thing’s chest. But the way the fire had been carved, he realized the fire was closing the wound. Shrugging, he tucked it away, glad that he was able to use his powers again. 

“Getting in a last-minute play session, scut?” Arcturus looked up as the guard started laughing. He looked at the cackling elf. Part of him wanted to attack her, vent his fury at his situation. The green energy crackled along his hands again. Before he could decide if he wanted to attack her or if his life was worth the indignation, for now, she turned and walked away to join the rest of the guards. 

As they passed the satyr, he saw the elf lean in and say a few words. The satyr looked over at Arcturus’s cell and let out a braying laugh. Arcturus rolled his eyes and just went to sit on the bed. He waited patiently for them to gather the group for the impending blood sport. The other humans eventually started talking to each other. Some wondered what the trial would be today and what they would be doing if they lived. Arcturus remained silent, but moved to the edge of his cell so he could at least hear the conversation well. 

The cell doors all opened by themselves. Five guards waited in the hall. Unlike the ones from earlier, these were all in riot armor. They had tower shields in one hand and studded clubs in the other. Mass produced sheet metal breast plates covered their torsos, necks, arms, and upper legs. “This way to the armament room.” The largest intoned, his giantish ancestry clearly visible. As they humans followed the guards, more slaves joined them from other hallways. 

Arcturus looked around at the other slaves. There were fourteen of them total. There had been fifty slaves when they entered the town. It seemed that a good portion of them had been sold in this city. It was their luck that the Flower Festival was this week. He had tried to avoid creating attachments to any of the other slaves, knowing they would just be sold off, killed, or sent to the mines. They left the prison where they were all kept and entered a narrow alleyway that led to the arena. 

While it was normally used for sporting events of a non-fatal variety, it was still a pit like arena with seating all around. Rather than enter onto the field, they were led to a long room filled with weapons. A quick glance told Arcturus that all of the weapons were in horrible condition. The rack of spears was filled with warped and cracked spear shafts. The swords hanging on the wall all had some rust on them, one having half of the blade snapped off. Everywhere he looked, the armor and weapons were all in similar condition. 

“Outfit yourself however you want. You have five minutes.” The Goliath said, resting against the wall. 

Arcturus walked over to the wall. He wasn’t used to fighting with weapons. He was used to working in the fields. After looking around, he finally decided on a smaller flail. Like the threshing flails he was used to using, this one had a long handle with four cords attached to the end. Unlike the ones he was used to, this one had spiked balls small enough to fit two in his hand at a time. As a last-minute choice, he also picked up a hardened leather cap. 

“Looking to die quickly?” One of the other slaves said. It was Soca, one of the farmers who had often failed his quota. The man was thick set but malnourished. One of his arms was shrunken and held to his chest by a large strap. Arcturus remembered the incident that destroyed his arm. They had finished threshing the harvest for the day and were working in the mill. Something had gotten lodged in the gears. Arcturus had been one of the slaves holding the brake lever while Soca reached into the machine to remove the blockage. Arcturus was never quite sure what happened next, but he remembered the pressure on the brake increasing greatly and a powerful impact slammed into his back. Everyone on the brake was knocked to the ground and the gears started moving. Soca got caught in the gears and his arm was ruined. Being a slave, they did the minimum to keep him alive, but he was never able to use that arm again. He had gone from one of the hardest workers to one who never made his quota. They had refused to reduce the quota for him, claiming everyone had to work or they weren’t valuable. 

Now, here they were, about to enter a combat arena. He was wearing a leather breastplate with a small shield on his shrunken arm. He had a large mace in his good hand. A smile touched his lips. “Not at all. I’m just not used to other weapons.”

“You’re still naked.” The larger man pointed out as they waited near the door. 

“Yeah.” That was all Arcturus had to say about that. “What do you think we’re going to have to do?” The larger man shrugged. They waited in silence for the rest of the slaves to finish arming up. Once they were assembled, the goliath opened the gate in front of them. 

“Out, all of you. Gather in the middle and wait for the announcement.” He barked, cracking a whip over their shoulders. They stumbled into the arena, slowing and stumbling at the bright light of the sun and the roar of the crowd slammed into them. A few more cracks of the whip got them to the center of the arena. 

“So, who bought you?” Arcturus asked, nervously swinging the small flail. 

“Some fancy Mer type. Probably a minor noble by the way they carried on.” Soca replied. “Bought four of us. Three for here and one for themselves. I think they put money down on how quickly we would die.” He pointed to two other slaves. “We were purchased together. I guess if we stick together and try to survive, we can at least anger him before we die. You?”

“Some Firlbog Templar bought me. She put ten Scales that I would live.” Soca and the slaves next to him let out whistles of surprise. “Yeah. She wants my powers to be at her disposal.” Arcturus looked around. “She’s the one with the bright green hair and a goblin on her shoulders. Right next to the harpy.” He pointed to the trio of women. As they looked, a large gnoll male joined them, holding a large tray of food in one hand and drinks in the other. 

“Good luck. I’m not sure if I’ll pray for your swift death or survival.” Soca said, motioning for them to stop as the announcer started talking. 

“Welcome one and all!” The announcer’s magically amplified voice boomed out. “Here we are, in the middle of the Flower Festival, the celebration to commemorate the end of the Uprising and the defeat of the evil gods and their human followers.” The crowd cheered. “In these past two centuries, our world has become more utopian than it ever was under the rule of humans. Today, we will celebrate our victory with the results of the Blade Auction!” The crowd roared their approval. The announcer let them cheer for a minute before motioning them to quiet down. “Now, our world still isn’t safe. There are still monsters from that war and before that wander the wilds, attacking settlements, outposts, caravans, and even in our cities.” There was a cry of fear and shouts of anger. “But there are those who stand against these evils. Brave folk who give their all to keep us safe. Recently, a band of such creatures has been captured. Today, we will be getting rid of two threats at one time. These slaves, those who will not work or who are too dangerous to work, will be fighting against a small tribe of…” A gate fifty feet away from them opened. The crowd quieted as everyone leaned in, wondering what was going to come out of the gate. There was a chorus of roars and a group of three hulking creatures lumbered out of the gate. “…TROLLS!” The sound from the audience was deafening. 

Arcturus looked over at Djarjage to see her reaction. He had never heard of trolls. He saw her shoulders sag. It seemed that his chances had just dropped. The trolls, all between seven and ten feet tall, rough, rocky blue skin glistening with mucus, all roared and loped forwards. Most of the slaves were too surprised to run or charge. Arcturus, Soca, and his two companions all ran to the side, trying to get behind the Trolls. An eight-foot troll turned from its initial target, coming at the smaller group. 

One of Soca’s companions, a wiry, pale skinned man standing five foot ten, rushed forwards with a spear. It sunk deep into the troll’s belly. It looked down at the injury and swiped one claw forwards, removing one of the man’s arms and snapping the spear with one blow. Leaning forwards, it grabbed him with its other hand and bit down on his upper body. Leaning back, it ripped the upper body apart, spilling the entrails onto the sandy ground. 

“Move!” Arcturus heard himself shout. He dove to the side as the troll tossed the lower half of its meal at them. Soca and the other human went down, having been too slow to dodge. Rolling to his feet, Arcturus felt his power gathering along his limbs. Too worried about the troll in front of him to care about his growing power, he swung his flail over his head in large arcs, building up momentum. He ducked under the troll’s first swing and brought the spiked heads of the flail up into the troll’s other hand. A series of dull thumps and crunches preceded a scream of pain from the troll. Rather than back away, the troll rushed forwards, knocking Arcturus onto his back. 

Before it could grab him, another spear stabbed into the troll’s side and a mace arced down, crushing the thing’s shoulder. Using the creature’s distraction to scrabble away, Arcturus regained his feet. Grabbing the flail in two hands, Arcturus took a hop step and slammed the flail into the creature’s other shoulder. As the blow landed, he felt his power burst forth. 

Pain seared his feet as the ground below them turned from sand into a shallow pool of acid. All three of the humans jumped back as the troll wailed in pain. Using the spear and the heavy mace and flail, they kept the troll from leaving the acid. Finally, it fell over into the pool, slowly dissolving into the liquid. While the audience groaned at the fact that only one of them died, many cheered at the show.   
Limping, the three of them moved together and looked at the remaining humans and trolls. Four of the humans were lying in patches of wine-colored sand, limbs shorn from their bodies. The other six were still fighting. Two of them were running from one troll, trying to stay away from its reaching claws. The other four were standing together, spears poking to keep the last one at bay. 

“We’ll get the runner, you get that one.” Soca pointed Arcturus to the one being help off by the four spearmen. Nodding, Arcturus ran forwards, hobbling slightly on his blistered feet. Ten paces before he reached the troll, it let out a stream of vomit on the four other humans. The stream of caustic liquid slammed into the middle two, splashing the ones on the outside. The two in the middle fell immediately, their flesh sloughing off their bodies in a lumpy soup. The two on the outside screamed in pain, their flesh being eaten by the splashes that hit them. 

Before the troll could move forwards, Arcturus felt his power gather in his feet. The world blurred around him as he moved faster than he had ever done before, feet leaving the ground. Bringing the flail down in a vicious over headed swing. The balls slammed into its face, breaking the troll’s skull. Arcturus smiled as he heard it crash to the ground behind him. He raced off to the final troll, focused on saving as many people as he could. The roar of the crowd 

The final troll had caught Soca’s remaining partner and one of the runners, using them as clubs to try and crush its final enemies. As Arcturus approached, he could see both humans were nothing more than sacks of flesh, the bones having been pulverized. He could feel his anger focusing his power from his feet into the heads of his flail. As he ran forwards, he lept, his power carrying him through the air. As the heads of the flail connected with the troll’s back, thunderous explosions tore chunks out from the troll. 

The creature bellowed in rage as it fell. Arcturus pulled back and slammed the flail into the creature’s head. Over and over he brought the flail down on the creature’s head. Brains, bone, and blood scattered everywhere. The crowd was roaring in pleasure. 

“Arcturus!” Soca grabbed the younger man’s shoulder. The flail dropped from his hands. “It’s done. They’re dead.” 

Chest heaving for breath, Arcturus looked around. The crowd was cheering and...laughing? He looked around as Soca and the one other remaining human. They were slapping him on the back. He saw the dead troll at his feet, the regeneration stopping as the brain had been completely disconnected and pulverized. Looking back, he noticed the troll still dissolving in the acid. His gaze fell upon Djurjage, who was pointing to a spot behind the group. His eyes widened as he realized that the third troll was no longer on the ground. 

He spun as he heard a scream from Soca. The remaining troll had shoved its bony, clawed hand through the larger man’s back. It grabbed his spine and ripped, pulling some of the vertebrae and ribs from the man’s back. The other slave, seeing his allies mutilated, screamed in terror and threw his spear down, running for the far end of the arena. The troll, still high on blood lust, glared at Arcturus. 

Arcturus could feel his blood run cold. There was no way he could take on the troll by himself. He stood in the middle of the ring, unsure what to do. His flail wouldn’t do anything against this creature, and he was tapped out. He could feel his joints threatening to give way from the amount of power he had already summoned. As the troll stalked forwards, Arcturus felt a heat growing in his loins. It took him a few moments to realize the heat was coming from the amulet around his waist. 

Arcturus felt a warmth run up his spine, crawling through his nerves and veins. Breathing out through his nose, he glared at the remaining troll. He focused on the heat, imagining it entering his stomach. He could feel the power bubbling inside of him, threatening to burst forth. Rearing back, he inhaled through his nose. Leaning forwards, he breathed out a lance of flame. It crashed into the troll, crisping the flesh and igniting the fat within the creature. Arcturus kept breathing the flames until only the skeleton remained. 

The audience was silent as they watched the inferno in the center of the ring. When the flames stopped, Arcturus pitched forwards, utterly spent. A lone set of cheers came from a group near the base of the stands. Soon, most of the audience was at least clapping as the guards walked into the arena to clean it up. 

Djurjage forced her way through the crowed towards the slave’s entrance. She had already handed her friends her receipt for the bet she had placed, trusting they would get her winnings for her. Now was time for the second half of her investment. She met the guards just after they left the gate. They had both remaining humans in their hands. One of the humans was gibbering, clearly having soiled himself during the fight. She didn’t spare a thought for that human. Her target was hanging limply between two Saurian guards. One of them was clearly of draconic ancestry, while the other one was a lizard from the Outer Isles. 

“That one’s mine.” Djurjage planted her meaty hands on her hips. The two guards looked at her, uncaring. 

“We will return any funds to you, do not worry.” A wood elf in an official looking suit walked out from their office. “This human has magical powers and was somehow able to overcome the enchanted manacles on him. He clearly cheated and we must find out how.” 

“He survived, and by law, he is my property now. You cannot take him away.” The Firlbog paladin refused to move, blocking the passageway. 

“Article twelve, section four, paragraph two of the Punishment for Uprising: Any human found with magical abilities shall have them suppressed without license. Use of magical abilities without a license signed both by owners and two officials, one of which being a notary, may be subject to repossession by the state for repurposing or interrogation.” The elf looked up at the much taller Firlbog with a look of smug victory. 

“He attacked no one other than the trolls. Don’t you think that if he wanted to get away, he could have used any magic before they got to the fight to try and escape?” 

“Its motivation doesn’t matter to me.” The elf sneered up at her. “All that matters is that it cast spells despite the manacles. I want to know how. If it speaks quickly and lives, you may then purchase it again.” The elf held out a small pouch. “Your refund.” Without waiting for Djurjage to take the pouch, they dropped it to the ground and walked off, leading the guards holding Arcturus.

Licks of holy fire played along Djurjage’s arms as she tried to keep her anger under control. She jumped a little as a small green figure picked up the bag of coins. “Hey, didja sell ‘im back? Why, he was cute.” Djarjage looked down at Okiba. She was tall for a goblin, nearly four feet tall. She was dressed for the festival, a skirt of white linen around her waist with large slits up the sides, exposing her green legs from ankle to hip, only covering her front and back. She was wearing a white sport’s bra, letting the sun glisten off her olive green skin. 

“No, I didn’t sell him back. How often do you find a mage among the humans?” Djurjage asked rhetorically. “That elf spouted some legal jargon at me and they took him back.” She ground her jaw, her teeth creaking. 

“Can’t let them do that!” Another voice pipped up. A kobold only three feet tall, her grey skin only covered by a plain brown breastband and bootyshorts, walked up next to Okiba. “Want him free?” She reached into her breastband and pulled out a few thin iron rods from the relatively flat material.

“Let’s try to find another way first, okay Misha?” Okiba asked the smaller kobold. Misha nodded and slipped the lockpicks back in her band. Okiba turned to Djurjage. “Do you think Chris or Tilly could help us? They still owe us a favor, especially since you just got them each six Scales with that bet.”

“Nah…I don’t want to get them involved with this.” Djurjage started walking after where they had taken her human. “You said you wanted to see the Ivory Coast?” Okiba nodded. “Well, that’s where we’re going, right after we break him out.”


	3. The quest is laid

Arcturus groaned as he was thrown into a dark cell. They had stripped his combat thong off, leaving him naked except for the phoenix amulet around his hips. Surprisingly, the two guards didn’t seem to notice it and let him wear it. This room was worse than the one they kept him in the previous night. The walls were all undressed stone, and the door was wood with metal bands. The only window was a small set of bars in the upper corner of the room. There was no bucket and no pallet in the room, only the cold, bare ground. 

He woke up as his head hit the cold ground, a mix of pain from the impact and soothing coolness from the stone. His whole body shivered and he rolled over onto his back. Hands groping. He checked and realized he was still wearing the mage-suppressing manacles. Reaching down, he could feel the phoenix symbol hanging on his waist. He smiled, remembering the power that it had given him. Exhausted from the fight, he passed out, head lolling back in the cold stones.

Arcturus only knew it was night as the sky outside of the small window was dark. His stomach growled angrily, cramping in addition to make noise. He groaned, shivering from the cold floor and the gusts of cold air coming in from the window. He reached down and grabbed for the phoenix, intent on asking it for warmth. He froze as a hand grabbed the medallion lying on his groin. It wasn’t his hand. 

“So, what do we have here?” The elf who had taken him from the woman who had purchased him looked from the talisman to Arcturus. “Is this what you used to get around the manacles?” Arcturus kept silent, trying to back away. The elf gave a quick tug on the chain to keep him still and he felt the prick of a knife on the flesh around his waist. “Who gave this to you? Huh? Was it that bitch with the World Tree Templars? Those idiots don’t know what they’re suggesting. Well, this will give me enough evidence to throw her in jail and discredit the order.” He dug the blade gently into Arcturus’s skin, drawing a long, thin line of blood. “If you give them up willingly, I will make your life better than you could ever hope with her.”

Arcturus remained quiet. He wasn’t trying to defend the woman who purchased him, he didn’t care about her. He wasn’t sure what had given him the amulet, and he didn’t think that story would do anything for him right now. He kept silent, barely letting out moans of pain as the knife cut him. He was too tired to care. 

“Well, I think that’s enough information to satisfy me.” The door burst inwards, a large bone hammer visible. Misha scurried in, a long bone headed spear in her hand. She thrust it at the man’s hand, shoving it and the knife away from Arcturus. Okiba came in behind her, a carved scepter in her hand. Purple energy burst forth, freezing the elf in place. Djurjage stepped into the doorway. With one hand, she crooked her finger at Arcturus, ordering him to get up and come to her. Figuring the Templar was better than the elf at this time, he grabbed the knife and crawled for the door. Djurjage grabbed him under the shoulder and lifted him to his feet. 

“Come on, we got ta’ git gone!” Okiba hissed, grabbing Arcturus’s other hand. The four of them silently fled through the slave pens. As they made their way to the exit, Arcturus saw the guards were on the ground, groaning occasionally. He felt a small, but strong hand grab the knife from his hand. 

“No knife. Slaves don’t hold weapons.” Misha chirped at him. She tucked the bloody knife in her belt. Reaching back up, she squeezed his ass, hissing with delight.

“Hey, ‘member, business and pleasure.” Okiba held her hands up in front of Misha. “Keep ‘em separated.” Misha looked ashamed, but they all continued to run. Arcturus barely made it another minute before he collapsed to the ground. As they went to lift him up, his stomach made a loud growl. “When ya’ last eat?” She asked him. 

“Two mouthfuls of porridge before the fight.” Arcturus replied, leaning against Djurjage, consciously aware that she was covered in very warm fur.

“When next?” Misha asked, tail flicking worriedly. Arcturus thought, then shrugged.

“Damn it.” Djurjage cursed. “Come on, the Chapter house is just around this way.” She led them through the streets, checking each corner till they made it to a large tree near the edge of the city. A pair of large double-doors were grown into the tree, twenty feet tall and ten feet wide each. Fumbling at her belt for a key, she handed it to Misha. “Take him to our rooms. He could use a bath in addition to the food.” Her nose wrinkled as she said that. Misha chuckled and grabbed Arcturus’s hand. 

Inside of the unadorned doors, the front hall was decorated with moss and leaf tapestries, a grand staircase, and suits of armor in alcoves. Everything seemed to be grown from the tree itself. The glow globes, rather than being electrical, were filled with what looked like fireflies in thin, translucent orbs. Arcturus was hurried up the root stairs by his kobold companion. They got off the steps on the fifth floor. 

“Too high. Asked for lower room many times.” Misha slotted the key into a slot in the wall. A valve like door opened and admitted them in Djurjage’s room. It was a suite with three rooms. The main room was a bedroom, dominated by a large bed of moss and grasses. There were branches for armor, weapons, and clothing to hang from. Arcturus could see books on branches in the room that Misha didn’t angle him towards. Pushing from behind, she planted both hands on his ass, using it as an excuse to grope him as she pushed him to the third room, which held a toilet, sink, and a large pool, all grown from the tree. 

Misha pulled him into the water. He realized it wasn’t water, but a warm, thick, gel-like liquid. He floated in the gel, letting the warmth fill him. Scaly hands ran over his body. At first, it seemed like they were cleaning him. As they started to linger in places, he realized the owner was feeling him up in addition to cleaning him, taking pleasure in what she was doing. He froze, letting her hands run over him without saying anything. He wasn’t sure what he could say or do. The hands slowly ran down his back to his rear, the clawed fingers gently running over his flesh. 

He stiffened and arched his back slightly as one hand reached under him, the talons playing along his scrotum. Every fiber of his being wanted him to flee, but two decades of being forced to obey kept him rooted in place. Arcturus closed his eyes, trying to block out what he was feeling. Every time he thought he had succeeded, it turned out she had removed her hands and was repositioning them. She would touch him again and he would be unable to focus on anything other than the hands. Sparks started to play along his skin as his fear and anger started to run out of control.

“Misha, what’d I tell ya?” Okiba’s voice rang from within the room. The hands fled from his body. A tray and pitcher were placed down nearby. “He’s not yers ta play with as ya will.” His anger subsided slightly, the lightning still playing along his skin. “Look what ye’ve gone and done.

“I know. Too cute to resist.” Misha ashamedly confessed. A pair of sponges landed next to Arcturus.

“I suggest ya clean yerself. No use with this one around.” Okiba smiled at him. 

Misha came around in front, her cheeks were glowing as bright teal as her oddly colored tail. “Please forgive me. Too thirsty.” She looked at Arcturus, who refused to meet her gaze. She fled from the bath quickly, terrified about the lightning on his body.

“Sorry ‘bout her.” Okiba sighed, moving the food and drink to the edge of the bath. “Kobolds are bit diffrn’t from us. Can’t control ‘erself at times.” She gestures to a small plate of food. “Eat. Yer practically starvin’. Once ya finish that, call fer me. I’ll give more and some clothing.” She sat next to him. “Don’ worry. Djurjage’s a good woman.” She patted him on the shoulder before leaving the room, food tray in hand. “We got ya them toys fer a reason!” She admonished the kobold.

Arcturus stared at the food. He hadn’t seen a bounty like this since the Al-Night festival seven years ago. And this was only a small amount of food that had been on the tray! Tears of rage and worthlessness filled his mind. The power that had recently subsided came back redoubled. Rather than trying to calm down and let the energy dissipate, he channeled the anger into a bolt of energy. There was a loud crack as lightning shot from his outstretched hand and shattered the plate. He watched as the food sprayed all over the room and sank back into the gel-like liquid. 

He soaked for another twenty minutes before Djurjage came to the suite. He could hear her deep voice talking with the twangy voice of Okiba. Misha’s chirp-like voice come up only once, the sound of regret slowing it. Eventually, the tall Firlbog came into the washroom. She looked at the destroyed plate and the spilled food. “I’m sorry for her. She’s a powerful fighter, just insatiable at times.” She stated simply. Arcturus didn’t reply. Djurjage picked up an one of the mostly intact fried chickpea patties and sat at the edge of the pool. Lowering her hand, she placed it in Arcturus’s hand. “Eat.” She ordered him, voice gentle.

Slowly, he took a bite, years of obedience training and days of near starvation overpowering his defiance. The moment he took his first bite, all of his defiance washed away. He grabbed the patty and ate ravenously. He reached for more food that had fallen. A large had came down and smashed into his, causing him to wince in pain.

“You may be a slave and human, but you will not act like an animal. You will eat like a person. Get out of the bath, dry off, and join us for food. If I see you acting like a wild animal again, I will treat you like one.” Djurjage’s deep voice ground like rocks against his consciousness. “I know you are better than that.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Arcturus looked down as he replied. He waited for her to leave so he could get out. She didn’t move.

“You said yes, but you are still in there.” She sat down next to him. “When I give an order, you follow it. If anyone sees you disobey me, and I don’t punish you, they may get the authorities involved. I’d rather not have to do that. Now, get out, dry off, and join us.” Arcturus closed his eyes as he got out of the bath and grabbed one of the towels. It was fairly easy to dry himself off, as the gel easily absorbed into the towel-like moss. As he looked at himself, he realized he was cleaner than he could ever remember being; he even had a nice floral scent. Djurjage led him to the main room, where Misha and Okiba were already sitting, picking at the food on their plates. Misha hadn’t bothered to re-dress, and unashamedly watched Arcturus as he came over and was ordered to sit next to her. “Now, eat slowly. I don’t want you getting sick.”

Okiba placed another plate before Arcturus, along with a long robe. He quickly donned the clothing, conscious of the way they all looked at him. It took all of his will power to not dig in, but to shakily pick up an apple and start eating slowly. Still, he was scraping the core with his teeth in moments. Putting the core back onto the plate, he grabbed another of the chickpea pancakes and started eating slower, enjoying the way the flavors caused his mouth to flood with saliva. It took him a moment to realized there was a warmth against his side. Looking down, he saw Misha, still naked, was resting her tail against him. 

He continued to eat, watching the small Kobold from the corner of his eyes. Every time she reached forwards, or went to grab something, she moved a little closer to him. Eventually, Arcturus stopped eating and sat still as Misha worked her way closer and closer. He figured he had eaten enough. To distract himself, he looked around the room. 

Djurjage caught him looking around. Guessing his intent, she informed him, “You will sleep on here with us. You can have the foot of the bed.” She pointed to one part of the immense bed. “We need to be up early to get you out of town.”

“Why?” Arcturus asked. “Why are you doing this?” The group fell silent as three pairs of eyes focused on Djurjage. 

The tall Firlbog leaned back, gaze turning up to the ceiling. She popped a hunk of steak into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. She looked at Okiba. “Can you place a ward around the room dear?” Okiba nodded and started chanting. Puffs of pink magic floated around the room, creating a haze. Once she was sure the ward was covering them, Djurjage started. “It’s not that I don’t trust anyone outside the room, but this information was given to me secretly by the Chapter Master and I will not betray his trust. He ordered me to find the touched slave who would be brought to town. You would be instrumental in a task I need to undertake on the Ivory Coast.” She leaned forwards and reached out, grabbing the amulet that hung in the front of his waist. “This is what I was looking for.”

“Lookin’ fer the Flamebird? Ain’t that kinda contrary to the life o’ the Tree?” Okiba asked, pouring mead from a pitcher for the three of them. 

Djurjage took a large gulp of her mead. “Not really. The Flamebird is about rebirth and renewal. And there is reason we will need someone so closely linked to the sky and fire. But for right now, we need to get sleep, get to the Ivory Coast, and look into this.” She tossed a small symbol onto the part of the bed they were sitting on. It was a gothic cross with two concentric circles around it. At each of the edges of the cross, there was a small red stone. In the middle was a blank face with two horns on it. 

Arcturus stumbled off the bed, crashing onto the floor. His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat breaking out across his naked flesh. His eyes were as large as saucers as he attempted to flee from the symbol. “Wh…where did you get that!” His voice shivered as it came out. 

“One of my fellows found this in the Northern end of the Ivory Coast. That’s where we are going.” Djurjage replied, scooping the symbol back into the pouch it had come from. “We’re going to investigate if the Endless Hunger is being worshipped again. If so, where the cultists are and destroy them.” She walked over to Arcturus and squatted over his body, face close to his. “So, Arcturus, are we going to have a problem? Am I going to have to use the lash to get you to behave, or are you going to willingly do what you’re told?”

Arcturus tried to look away, but a large, fur covered hand grabbed his jaw and forced him to look her in the eyes. He was still sweating with fear. The Endless Hunger was one of the gods that had seduced humanity into trying to take over the world. Tens of thousands had been sacrificed to the Endless Hunger during the world wide war, more than all of the other evil gods combined. While most of the other gods had been content with killing enemy combatants, the cultists for the Endless Hunger had rarely met on the battlefield. Most of them spent their time depopulating cities. 

“You will not have a problem with me.” He swallowed hard. “I have nothing but anger for those gods.”

“Good. Misha, you’re sleeping next to me tonight. I don’t want you raping him in your sleep.” Djurjage let him go and walked back to the bed. “We have to be up early tomorrow.” Quickly stripping out of her shorts and tank top, Djurjage got onto the bed of mosses and grass, tossing a blanket blanket over herself and the Kobold. Misha gave a chirp of alarm as the large Firlbog squeezed her close.   
Okiba went to one of the branches and pulled down a heavy sheet of moss. She tossed it at Arcturus before grabbing one for herself. Lying down on a different part of the bed, she wriggled out of her clothing while under the blankets. “Sleep well. we gotta get up early tomorro’.” She yawned, smiling as she went to sleep. 

Arcturus looked at the group before him. He had never expected his master to be this kind. He had heard of many masters who would have let Misha have her way with him. He even knew that many of the ‘nice’ masters out there would have given him a pallet or may have let him stay in Misha’s bed. He had never heard of a master who would keep someone from using him as they pleased, as long as it didn’t prevent him from working. She also trusted he wouldn’t attack her after they all fell asleep. She was even letting him share the same bed, even though the bed was large enough for another ten people at least. 

He shook his head. She may say that it was ok for him to sleep in the same bed tonight, but would she feel the same way in the morning? Shaking his head, he walked over to the washroom. It was warm and humid in the room. Making sure he was out of sight of the others, he took the robe off, wrapped himself in the moss blanket, and laid down to sleep in the corner of the room.


	4. The Deal

Arcturus woke in the grey light before dawn. He looked around the room he was in, remaining still and quiet. He could hear the lapping of water and a gentle series of snores coming from outside of the room. A gentle splash and hiss brought his attention to the pool near him. The figure from the arena cells was shaking their hand, having just placed it in the pool. 

“We didn’t get to talk much last time.” The figure’s voice, and what little of their face Arcturus could see, was clearly androgynous. Arcturus remains still and silent, unsure what was going on and if he should call for someone. “You can talk, they won’t hear us. You can just rationalize this as being in your head.”

“Who are you?” Arcturus asked, self consciously slipping into his robe. 

The figure ignored the question. “I have a proposition for you.” They chuckled. “You’ve already seen some of the benefits of our association. Now I will ask you for something.”

“You mean my powers are because of you?” He felt a chill run down his spine despite the warmth of the room. The figure nodded. “Do you know how much trouble you have brought me?” Lightning licked his hands as he reached out towards the figure. The lightning dissipated. Arcturus’s hands shook as his powers fled from him.

“None of that.” The figure stood and moved around the pool to him. “Yes, I gave you your powers so you would be moved off that plantation where you would have lived an unimportant life for another ten or twenty years. I made your powers go wild so the only people brave enough to purchase you would be the Templars. And I gave you that symbol so you could still cast with those manacles on. I have done much for you. Now you must do something for me.” 

The force of the words shuddered through Arcturus’s body, freezing him in place. “What do you want me to do?” He figured he could always say no and see what happened.

“Travel with the Templar and her companions. On the way to the Ivory Coast, you will come to a building. It looks pristine, but inside it is rotten. All I ask is that you burn it down.” The figure mused, looking out the window. 

“What if there are people inside?” Arcturus dreaded the answer he knew was coming.

“I said, there was rot inside. Burn it down. I don’t ask for you to enjoy it, only to do it. You’re used to that, aren’t you?” The figure looked at him. He could see a smirk on the insolent, hidden face. 

“And if I say no?” Arcturus growled. The figure chuckled and the amulet appeared in their hand. 

“Then you can go through life as a normal person.” 

Arcturus thought for a few moments. If he didn’t have his powers, would Djurjage even keep him? They wouldn’t remove these shackles, so no one would buy him and he would end up in the mines, with only a few years of life. Besides, if they were rotten, wouldn’t he be doing people a service? But what if he got caught? What if he had to betray Djurjage to do this?

“I have one condition.” The figure laughed. “You will not ask me to injure Djurjage or her companions.” 

“Such loyalty. A good trait for a slave, but surprising in you. But I agree. I will never ask you to hurt Djurjage or her companions.” They both smiled as they shook hands, clearly thinking they got the better side of the deal. The amulet appeared back on Arcturus’s waist. 

Arcturus opened his eyes. He was sitting up in the washroom, clothed and cross legged on the ground. In his lap was a pair of red and black gloves. Looking closely at them, he could see the pattering was that of deep molten red feathers, their spines ant tips a coal black. Gingerly, he pulled the gloves on, realizing they were made of a thin, silken material. They fit his hands perfectly. As he looked at both of them, palms up, a book appeared in his hands. 

_The Skybird’s guide to flamebringing_

That was the name embossed in flickering coal red on the black leather cover. The book itself smelled of burnt wood. Opening it, he saw the paper inside was vellum. There were pages upon pages, most of them blank. Only the front few pages had any writing, covering both sides of the sheets. He was surprised he could read them, having never been taught how to read. As he poured over the alien words, he could see ways to start controlling his power. 

Cupping one hand and muttering the phrase from the book, not sure how he knew the sound of the words, a small ball of green flame appeared in his hand. He could tell it was real from the heat pouring off it. It rolled around his hand the same way an apple would have, not burning the gloves, nor his skin when he held his arm over it. Closing his hand, he muttered the next series of words listed in the book. The flames separated into four ghostly green flames. These produced no heat, but gave off a wonderful light. He sent them dancing across the room, creating wonderful designs in the air.   
As he finished reading the writing in the book, he looked at an apple that had fallen on the ground last night when he had destroyed the plate. With a quick snap of his fingers, bringing his arm across his body in a backhanded throwing motion, he sent a streak of fire towards it. The burnt apple smacked off the far wall, leaving a smear. 

As he closed the book, it disappeared. The gloves remained on his hands. Panicking, he held his palms flat up again, and the book re-appeared. Confident that the book would always be there, he let it disappear again. 

“Everythin’ right ‘n here?” Okiba looked into the washroom, rubbing sleep from her eyes. 

“Yes.” Arcturus replied quickly. “I can leave if you need.” 

“Much obliged.” Okiba muttered. “Might as well get th’ breakfast ready. W’all be up an’ gone soon. Food near th’ stove.” Arcturus looked into the main room. There was a small stove, with a few small sacks and barrels near it. Looking through them, Arcturus decided to try and make some porridge with dried fruit, molasses, and nuts. 

He laid out three bowls, two of them clearly smaller than the other, and filled them with the porridge. Unsure what to do now, he waited by the stove. Misha was the first to the table, trying to avoid looking at Arcturus. She quickly devoured her bowl and scuttled up to him, holding the bowl out for another filling. “Sorry about last night. Okiba was right. Should not have touched you.” Arcturus ladled her more porridge.

“Then why did you?” He asked hesitantly.

“Time of month. All kobolds get what others call ‘egg crazy’. Still, I should be better. Okiba got me supplies.” She scuffed her foot claws on the ground. 

“I understand. It’s the way the world is.” Arcturus had heard, and seen, humans being used often enough by their master’s or their master’s friends to know it wasn’t rare.

“No!” Misha blurted out. “I mean, yes, but no. Djurjage not like that. Okiba not like that.”

“But you are?” Arcturus wasn’t sure why he let his tongue run away with him, but the fire burning in his soul had loosened his tongue. To his surprise, Misha nodded. 

“When I was younger. Family used humans for those too young to be responsible.” Misha looked at her bowl of food, then back at Arcturus. “Are you not eating?” 

He was caught off guard by the question. “I’m…I’m not sure when I can.” He felt he could be honest with this curvaceous kobold. She had admitted that she had used humans against their will, but her shame also looked very real. 

“Eat now! We eat together when alone.” Misha pulled him to the table and placed the food in front of him. “You need to eat. Fill back out.” She smiled at him. Her draconic eyes and sharp teeth made him want to ask if she was fattening him to eat him. “No! Not to eat you…” She fidgeted before running off to her gear, ash gray cheeks turning teal. 

“I see you’ve forgiven her, at least for last night.” Djurjage sat at the table, picking up the large bowl and wolfing the food down. “You will be carrying the bag during our travels. It’s what’s expected.” She placed a large backpack with a central pouch, one to each side, and a smaller one on the front. Arcturus lifted the bag. It was surprisingly light for its size. Opening it, he found each of the compartments was filled with more supplies than he thought possible. “We will each carry our camping gear and combat gear. This bag contains our food, supplies, and most of our coin.” She patted a small pouch that would be against his back. Arcturus opened it, keeping an eye on Djurjage. It was filled mostly with silver Talons, but there were still dozens of golden Scales. “Yes, I’m trusting you with carrying our coin. At least, I will, if you tell me where these gloves came from.” She reached forwards, taking one of Arcturus’s hands in her massive paws. 

“The same place I got the amulet.” He admitted after a few moments. 

“Anything else?” She asked. By this point, Misha had gotten another bowl for herself and Okiba was gingerly eating her food. They had all dressed, much to Arcturus’s thanks. Misha was once again in her breast band and booty shorts, neither doing anything to hide her curves, although Arcturus knew she wanted to flaunt her body. Okiba was once again in her thin skirt and sports bra. Unlike the relaxed ones from yesterday, these were covered in religious symbology. Arcturus was amazed that even the priests seemed to not mind showing off their bodies. Djurjage was in a pair of shorts with a crop top on. 

Arcturus thought back to his life on the plantation. All of the humans wore long clothing, only ever exposing knees and elbows during the hottest parts of the year. The plantation masters would punish any of them, children included, for wearing anything less than elbow length shirts and knee length shorts. The only time he remembered seeing anyone in as little clothing as these women was when he was in the slave train. 

“Arc, was there anything else?” Djurjage’s voice cut through his reverie. He jumped and shook his head to clear the cobwebs from it. “What’s the problem?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times like a landed fish. “I’m just…not accustomed to being treated like an equal…nor seeing so much skin.” His hands rested on the table, turning palms up. The book appeared. “Oh, and I learned a few simple spells from this.” He planted his face into the table, blushing heavily.

“I forgot. Sorry to make you uncomfortable.” Misha swirled the bottom of her porridge. “When we kept humans, most other families forced long clothing on slaves. Made being naked a sign of humiliation to them.”

“Could’a told us that.” Okiba rolled her eyes. “Ya want us ta get ya longer clothes?” Arcturus looked at his robe. It was short sleeved and only came down half way up his thighs. He looked at Djurjage.  
“No, I’m fine. Maybe just some underwear?” He asked. Misha rushed off to grab something. Coming back, she handed him a scrap of cloth. It was a pair of teal lacey panties. Okiba snickered and Djurjage held her bowl in front of her face, hiding her smile. 

“My hips bigger, but give you plenty of room up front.” Misha smiled at him. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Djurjage asked, biting on lip to keep from laughing. “She has given you a present. Be polite and use it, otherwise I will order you to wear it.” 

Grinding his teeth together, and figuring anything to keep him from flopping all over the place was better than nothing, he put the panties on. They were tight on him, but there was enough room in the material for him to secure himself. As he put the panties on, Misha trilled with happiness. 

“Well, we should get going.” Djurjage closed the book. “What language is this in?” Arcturus shrugged. “Then how do you know how to read it?” She rolled her eyes as she strapped her armor, which only consisted of heavy thigh guards made of scales, an upper chest plate of rib bones, shoulder guards made of shoulder blade bones, and a heavy shield made from a tortoise shell. 

“I’m not sure. I never learned to read. I just know what is written there.” He walked over and helped his master strap on her armor. He then grabbed the large bag, slinging it on his back. With a wave of his hands, the book disappeared. 

“Can teach you to read.” Misha replied as they left the room. “Happy to teach you.” 

“Please tell me ya packed at least one o’ her toys?” Okiba sighed as they made their way out of the building. 

“Right pouch.” Djurjage replied. She led them down the road to eastern gates. “But we need to be moving. And I don’t think it’s a bad idea for her to teach him. Just remember Misha, hands to yourself.”  
They walked along the road, leaving the city before even the morning watch had taken over from the night watch. Once they passed through the gates, they all let out a sigh of relief. They thought the elf who had re-acquired him was going to try to head them off, but there had been no cry to stop them. On the road, they spent most of the day walking, stopping only a few times to rest and grab a small bite to eat. 

“Ya said th’ gloves there let ya control yer casting?” Okiba asked. 

“Yes, that’s what the book said.” Arcturus replied, looking at the gloves.

“Can ya rememba’ th’ words ta any?” Arcturus looked at Djurjage. They were pretty far away from any village and they hadn’t seen anyone on the road for the last hour. She nodded. Licking his lips, He started with the easiest of the spells. With a snap of his fingers, he sent a bolt of fire at a rock in the road. “Ya got that one, ‘ny otha’s?”

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember the words to the spell. Trying the first one, he managed to summon the ball of fire in his hand. 

“Good spell. Start campfire with it?” Misha called from where she was placing twigs to start cooking their dinner. He tossed the ball of fire into the stack of twigs, igniting them. 

“There was one more.” Arcturus called out the last of the chant and squeezed his hand. Four ghostly flames appeared. He started moving them around the clearing. 

“Very good. Ya got some nice little spells. Practice th’m t’night an’ I’ll show ya more later.” Okiba sat on a log and watched as Arcturus practiced. 

They kept up this routine up for the next four days, as they slowly made their way from the Khoal Valley to the Ivory Coast. On the fifth day, they came upon Ghol-Mish, a large town surrounded by heavy wooden walls. They could hear the noise of trade in industry the moment they broke from the woods, despite being over a mile away. 

“Now remember, no casting spell from here on out.” Djurjage whispered to Arcturus as they continued to walk. Arcturus looked around at the people working the fields. Most of them were human slaves, working the large plantation farms that fed the largest towns and provided their raw materials. They were wearing long pants and shirts, loose enough to not show the curve of any part of the body. Arcturus felt very exposed in his sandals and short robe. 

As they got to the gate, Arcturus saw there were two gnolls on watch at the base of the gates, along with four halflings. As they approached, one of the gnolls looked at Arcturus. “You all in a hurry? Got a few minutes to spare?” His long, flat tongue licked his muzzle.

“He’s not for you to touch.” Djurjage growled. “He’s ours.” Her hand closed around her bone hammer. Arcturus had seen this happen many times before. He shrank in behind Djurjage, trying to get out of sight of the gnoll. He had no desire to be used again as a slave. The two tall warriors held eye contract for a few moments before the gnoll backed down.

“Fine, get moving. Make sure to keep that filth close to you. If it runs or gets stolen, we can’t guarantee you’ll get it back in the same condition.” The barking laugh bore into Arcturus’s skull as they walked away. 

“Don’t worry about them. Safe with us.” Misha patted his butt. She blushed teal and quickly lowered her hand. The buildings around them were mostly timber single and double story buildings. Most appeared to be houses, or shops with houses above them. The deeper into the town they went, the more stone was used in the buildings. 

“It’s ok.” Arcturus muttered. “It’s nothing I haven’t had to deal with before.”

“Not anymore.” Djurjage led them into one of the larger taverns. It was a massive three story building. “No one will use you like that without your consent while you are with us.” The inside of the building was nearly as massive as the outside. There were scores of patrons all at dozens of tables. the roar of the jovial atmosphere was nearly all pervasive. Arcturus unconsciously shrunk closer to his companions. He could see humans all around. Some were sitting at tables, others waiting behind their masters. In the recessed alcoves, he could see bodies moving. Some were talking, others kissing, and even in some, he could see lines formed. He quickly turned away from those, knowing what he would find there, trying to block out the cries that he wasn’t sure were happening now or in his memories.   
Djurjage pushed her way to the front. “One room, now!” She growled out. The dwarf behind the counter looked at her with one raised eyebrow. 

“No need to be order’n me about like that. We have the bunk room fer three Claws a bunk, or we have the private rooms fer a Scale a piece.” The golden coin hit the bar before he stopped speaking. He blanched for a moment before fumbling for a key. “If yer’n such a hurry, there are plenty a’ alcoves.” He nodded to Arcturus. A deep growl from Djurjage stopped him. “If’n ye like yer privicy, i’s not my bother.”

Djurjage thrust the key into Misha’s hands. “Take him to the room and get situated, we’ll be up soon.” Misha grabbed the key with one hand and Arcturus’s hand with her other. She pulled him along, her size hiding a great strength. Arcturus realized that her curves weren’t just for sex appeal.

Halfway to the stairs, they were stopped by a pair of Thokla, moth winged insectile humanoids. They fluttered their wings as they barred passage for the kobold and the human. “Gossamer light to you.” The black and scarlet marked on intoned. 

“Indeed, and a lovely afternoon.” The sapphire and gold monarch stepped closer. “Is this human yours or does he belong to the establishment?”

“Mine!” Misha growled out. The Thokla didn’t seem to find the small kobold a threat.

“Well, let us take him from your hands tonight.” The two of them giggled. “We can make sure he will never need those collars again. We;ll pay well.” The monarch leaned closer, gently fingering the collar around Arcturus’s neck. Leaping up onto Arcturus’s chest, Misha whipped her tail up and grabbed the hand, ripping it away from the collar.

“Not for sale or for use. Back away, or I will be angry.” Misha was holding onto the collar herself now, feet braced against his chest so she could glare at the Thokla eye to eye.

“Fine, we will find some joy elsewhere. May the rains rot your wings.” The scarlet and black moth flicked their wings at the pair and walked away. 

“Come on, up the stairs.” Misha said, moving around so she could ride on his shoulders. “Stay up here to protect you.” They were silent till they got inside of the room. “Want me to cuddle you? Or is alone better?”

The room was large enough to contain two large beds, each enough for two average sized people, four if they wanted to cuddle. There was a simple armoire for all of their gear. Moving to the armoire first, Arcturus unslung the backpack and dropped it into the bottom. He then sat at the edge of one of the beds, patting the spot next to him. Misha jumped off him and landed on the bed, making herself comfortable. 

“Has that happened before?” She asked him. He looked down at her large, draconic eyes. She had admitted to using humans before, and was clearly ashamed of it. If she could be honest with him, he could be with her. 

“Yes.” His throat was dry. “And always like that. There were two taskmasters who took a liking to me. One was a gnoll, another a gnome.” He pulled his knees to his chest, wanting to keep going as his mind tried to blot out the memories. “The gnome didn’t care that he kept choosing me. Mainly he wanted someone to test his new inventions on, and I was the only one with magical abilities for some of his tests. It was impersonal.”

“But not the gnoll?” Misha moved a little closer. 

“No.” Arcturus sniffed. “He enjoyed it. He saw that I wasn’t cowed, and that it was only muscle memory that made me work. He…’asserted his dominance’ on me occasionally.” He spat the words out, hating to use the phrase his tormentor had used. “The worst part wasn’t the physical sensation. That was horrible, but it’s over now. I can get past that. When I was used in the same way by others, I was just in the moment, trying to block that out. Thankfully, it hasn’t happened for some time. The worst part was that hyena cackle of his.” Chills ran down his spine as a sheen of sweat formed on his skin. Misha leaned against him, one arm around his waist. “Whenever I hear a gnoll’s cackle, the memories come flooding back.” Tears welled within his eyes. He did everything he could to fight them back as Misha held him.

"Have you…said yes to human?” Misha’s question had come after so much silence that he jumped. Misha let him go, sitting up and looking at him with her doe eyes. 

“No. They only let us for breeding purposes.” 

“Misha will make sure no one ever fucks you.” She held out her hand for him to clasp. He chuckled.

“But what if I decide one day that I want to?” He cocked one eyebrow at her. He didn’t think he was going to sleep with anyone soon, but something in him felt that if he took back that part of his life, his past trauma might not hold so much sway over him. 

Misha thought for a moment. A sly smile appears on her snout. “Same deal, but you can get out if Misha is first?” 

“Okiba was right.” He looked at the hand. “Ok, if I ever decided to have sex with anyone, you will be first.” Misha beamed as they shook hands. 

“Chow’s herra.” Okiba called from just outside the door. The two of them jumped apart as the door swung open. Okiba and Djurjage both were carrying trays of food and drinks. Okiba’s face was set to a blank pleasantness while Djurjage was doing all she could to hide a smile from her face, making her frown even more prominent.

“Listening at the door?” Misha asked, hopping off the bed to grab a large beef rib. She tore into it, sharp teeth ripping the roasted meat. She came back over with a second rib in her other hand and offered it to Arcturus. “Don’t need to hide as you were.”

“No we weren’t.” Djurjage stuffed her mouth to keep her voice from choking up. They ate in a suspicious silence for a while, too hungry to care to talk too much. Only once they were done did anyone speak again. “Do you think you will be able to go around town?’ She asked Arcturus.

He nodded. “Yes. It was just a small amount of shock. I can perform my duties.”

“Na’ ‘bout duty. She askin’ if ya wanna stay here.” Okiba wiped her mouth gently, cleaning some sauce away. 

“No, I should go. I don’t want to keep hiding.” He also knew that he had a bargain to keep. 

“Good. I have a friend who needs a hand. Once we help her, we can rest and be on our way. It’s a simple job she assured me, but I don’t really trust her judgement, so let’s see what she wants first.”

“Why see her then? Have everything we need to get to the Coast.” Misha was gnawing on a rib.

“Because, she’s the one who found this.” Djurjage patted her hip pouch. “If I do her this favor, she might have more information for me.” Her chin jutted out, showing just what she thought of this friend’s help.


	5. Chapter 5

Misha rode on Arcturus’s shoulders as they made their way downstairs. As the sounds of the tavern washed over them, she placed her hands over his ears, blocking out some of the sound. He squeezed her ankles in thanks, something she replied to with squeezing her thighs around his head, pressing her barely covered crotch into the back of his neck. He smiled internally as he realized Misha wasn’t going to stop trying to seduce him. 

Thankfully, they left the tavern and exited into the openness of the street. It was warm outside. Arcturus was glad that they insisted he wear the short, light clothing he found exposing, despite his companions and most of the people in the city being in less clothing. The only people with longer clothing were the slaves who worked for the government or one of the large plantations. All the other humans were in what he was wearing or less. Most were being led by chains around their necks, but some, like him, were trusted enough to not have a leash on them. 

Misha’s tail gently thumped against his back as they walked, showing her obvious happiness at the day. They wound their way through the streets, moving through groups of people going about their daily business. After a while, it was clear they were headed to the open-air temple of Fervant. As they were about to enter in its boundary, a large minotaur came springing at them, slamming into Djurjage. Wrapping massive arms around her, the minotaur lifted her. 

“Jage!” She bellowed. “You made it!” She let Djurjage down and kissed her heartily. “And you brought the cute ones with you.” The minotaur was taller than the seven-foot Djurjage by half a foot. Her horns stretched out a good foot and a half from each side of her head, set just above long floppy ears. On the end of her snout was a large hoop nose ring. As she leaned in, Arcturus realized it had a grip on it. Her pink skin was covered in roan colored fur. She was wearing a ripped tee-shirt showing her well sculpted arms and abs and jeans that hugged her massive thigh muscles and ended just above her knees. Over one shoulder, she had a massive, two handed sword. 

“Lovely, ta see ya, Pila.” Okiba shared a hug with the massive creature. Pilan Oakbreaker turned from the goblin cleric to her fellow devote to the wilds. 

“Looking a little taller, Misha, and a lot happier. When did you get yourself a toy?” She put her muzzle up to Arcturus’s chest and wuffed into it. “He smells so nice. Care to show some sisterly love?” 

Arcturus couldn’t help it. His anger and fear were both spiking, causing adrenaline to surge through his body. His gloves started glowing and small arcs of green St. Elmo’s fire played over his skin. He felt a heavy weight slam against his back. It was Misha’s tail. “Say hi nicely or shock again.”

“But I didn’t thin…” Pilan started before Djurjage grabbed her and whirled her about, walking her back into the temple, holding her by one well-muscled arm as she led the minotaur away. 

“Careful. Don’t want to lose you.” Misha hugged his head, pressing her breasts against him. 

“I’m sorry.” He looked down. She ruffled his hair and tapped him with her tail. Looking up, he saw that he needed to catch up with the rest of the group. As he trotted up, he could see Pilan look back at him and looked confused at her companions. 

“But this is the punishment the gods handed down to them for their actions in the Uprising.” Pilan whispered louder than she intended. “You know the horrors they caused. I’m ok if you don’t care for it, but I’ll use them how I see fit.” She saw Arcturus coming closer. “Just know that I won’t report this because of our friendship. Now, about what I called you here for. Let’s go to my room. Leave him with the others.” She pointed to an area with other humans. 

“Wait over there.” Djurjage ordered him. “Okiba, Misha, lets go.” Misha jumped off his back, gave his ass a slight squeeze, and ran off after her companions. Arcturus looked over at what he could only think of as a slave pen. It was built like a small forest glade, but the ropes around the outside of the area, despite being decorative, marked the area as a pen. 

Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the pen and looked around, noting most of the slaves here were less clothed than he was. Most of them had athletic bodies, the long, lean muscles being shown by the short clothing. Many of them were talking and laughing, seemingly at ease here. A small group was gathered around a woman, her stomach swelling with child. They all seemed to be congratulating her.

Arcturus moved to an unoccupied bench. He saw down and resisted the urge to summon the book. All he could do was sit there, not sure for how long he would have to wait. He was going to have to find a way to thank Misha for saving him from making a massive mistake. He had to learn to control his anger better. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with being angry at what happened, but he needed to stay in control. 

Half an hour had passed before he noticed movement around him. The pregnant woman, tired of standing, had come over to sit down. “Hello, I don’t ever remember seeing you before. My name’s Lily Gro-Baash.” She held out a well-tanned and calloused hand. Hesitantly, Arcturus shook her hand. 

“Arcturus Finch.” His eyes drifted to her pregnant belly and quickly moved away.

“Yes, it is my master’s child I’m carrying, and no, I don’t feel any shame in it.” She drew her hand away from his. “I’m happy to have a master who cares for me so well. Most don’t have that.” She pointed to his gloves. “Those are finely made. They must have cost a few dozen Scales at the least. Something that most masters would be hard pressed to afford. If you can happily wear a costly present, I can carry the fruits of my master’s love.” 

Arcturus pursed his lips as he thought. “I’m sorry. I’ve never heard of a relationship between free and slave that was consensual just by the very nature.” He looked at the gloves. “That’s not to say that I don’t believe you. It’s just…hard for me with my experiences.”

“Fresh off the farms?” One of the men who had been hanging around her asked. Arcturus nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He looked to the others, putting a hand on the Lily’s shoulder. “Forgive my sister, we’ve all grown up in the city or a small town with masters similar to the ones we have now. In the large scale operations, the masters are often very brutal. What Lily has with Khogama would be impossible. Most slave masters here aren’t that brutal, but not many are as kind as Khogama, so I’m not surprised that he reacted this way.” The man smiled at him.

“These gloves…” He wasn’t sure how much to say. If he told them the truth, they might tell on him and Djurjage, getting both of them in trouble. “…they are special.” He nodded. Before he could continue, something slammed into his back, causing the other slaves to back off. 

“Meeting was boring.” Misha draped herself on Arcturus’s back. “Never been here before. Djurjage said we can explore. Go to Blackbird armory. Need weapons fixed.” Arcturus stood, pulling the muscular bombshell kobold onto his shoulders. 

“Hey, Arcturus, just try to think about what you learned. There is always a silver lining. It’s up to you to determine where that lining ends.” Lily said, resting her hands on her swollen belly. 

Misha waited till they had left the temple area before asking her question. “What did she mean?” 

“That is her master’s child. A half-orc if I am getting the name correct. She was telling me that it was a child of a union of love, not the master forcing himself on her.” Arcturus followed her directions, most of which she gave by tapping him. 

“That intrigues you?” Misha asked, her tail wagging curiously, teal flushing through her skin. 

Arcturus blushed heavily. “I…I have just never experienced or heard of that. The farms are not a place for tenderness.”

“Glad we rescued you.” She run her fingers through his hard and hugged him. “Show you that world not all bad.”

“No, you’re right…I need to know there is some good in the world. And this business we have on the coast…I promise to do what I can to prevent my ancestor’s sins from coming back.” Misha pointed him to a low, stone building. They could hear the rhythmic clank of hammers on metal and smell the burning metal and tubs of oil used for tempering. The inside of the building was dark, the only lights being the five furnaces burning. They could see dozens of apprentices working bellows and blow tubes, holding tongs, hammers, and shovels. There were a few journeymen working at the anvils, and in the back, surrounded by the most complex tools, was a goliath. The tools he was working with were made even smaller in his massive hands as he worked on a project so detailed it was impossible to see the details from this distance. 

A salamander came up to them, only wearing a leather kilt around his legs and heavy boots. He smiled at them, soot covering part of his body. “Good day! How can we assist you?” His body was long and lanky, unlike most of the saurian sub-species. He wiped a cloth over his lithe body, clearly showing off his muscles and narrow hips for Misha. Arcturus could tell she was enjoying the view as her tail started thumping his back. 

He jostled her a little on his shoulders, realizing she was no longer paying attention. “Huh…oh, yes!” She jumped down, pulling her blade’s sheath from her back. “Blade has been dulling quickly. Need it to stay sharp.”

“Let’s take a look at it.” The salamander led them over to a forge and started examining the blade. Misha’s tail was flicking back and forth as she watched the salamander work. 

Feeling it was loud enough for him to try, he leaned in and whispered, “Why not ask him on a date? We will have time.” Misha turned bright teal, her tail waving as the thought bubbled through her mind. She looked guiltily at Arcturus for a moment before going closer to the salamander. As they talked, he watched the color on the both of them get brighter. Laughing, the salamander held out his hand and shook Misha’s. 

She came bounding back to Arcturus and motioned for him to kneel. “Thank you. Will stay here till sword is done, then have time with him. Tell others where I am.” She looked around nervously. “Keep anger under control.” 

She patted Arcturus’s ass as he turned away. Maybe she wasn’t just horny in general, but horny for him as well. As the salamander started working and Misha sat, watching him, Arcturus was left to walk back to the temple by himself. Nervously, he took one step away from the smith’s shop, then another. Soon, he had made the first turn without being stopped. 

He started humming a tuneless melody under his breath as he walked, conscious that he had no defenses should someone try to accost him. As he continued walking, he could feel the phoenix symbol start warming up. Worried it would shine through his thin clothing, he looked around, trying to see what could be causing the medallion to react. 

As he continued to walk, he noticed there were a few humans who seemed to be following him unobtrusively. He decided to take a few extra turns, trying to shake them. The continued to follow him, getting closer through the large crowds. He was looking over his shoulder when he walked into something roughly his size. Head snapping forwards, he blanched as he saw the two Thokla from earlier. Cursing, he realized that he had passed too close to the tavern. 

“Watch where you’re going, ground worm.” The monarch said. The two of them passed by without a second glance. Arcturus stood, frozen for a few moments before slumping against the nearest wall and sinking to the ground. He had heard of the different venoms the Thokla could naturally make, and the threat earlier had him on edge. 

As he sat against the wall, trying to calm down and keep his powers from manifesting, he lost track of the humans following him. Breathing heavily into his hands, he looked up from where he was sitting as three sets of moccasin clad feet stopped in front of him. The three figures were humans. Curiously, they were all wearing long pants and shirts, marking them as farm or mine slaves. 

“My, those two seemed to have made a bad impression on you.” The leader, a smaller, dark skinned woman, said. Arcturus nodded, his fear lowering his defenses around other humans. “Don’t you just hate that they could have done whatever they wanted to you, in the middle of the road, just for bumping into them?” 

“Yeah, probably even for less. I’m just glad they passed by.” Arcturus accepted the hand up from one of the humans, a tall, muscular light skinned man.

“I don’t think you should have to breath a sigh of relief every time they walk by.” The third person, a deeply tanned man, brushed off Arcturus’s back. “Something like that should just need an apology on each side and that is all. I mean, they also walked into you.” Arcturus, still a little shaken up, didn’t realize they had started leading him away. 

“So, where were you headed?” The leader asked. “We can make sure you get there safely.”

“Thank you.” Arcturus smiled. “I need to inform my master as to where one of her companions is.” 

“Don’t want to lose anyone.” The third one smiled. “You’re very dutiful.” Arcturus pursed his lips and looked down. “Nothing to be ashamed of. A sense of duty, of right and wrong, is never something to feel ashamed of.”

“We have a…support group for other humans. Helps us to all see a better future. You should come tonight. We hold our meetings at the old schoolhouse on Cooper Street.” The leader smiled. “An hour before sunset. And don’t worry, all of this is legal.” She chuckled. One by one, the humans broke off from the group, leaving him to walk the final few turns to the temple alone. 

When he got there, Djurjage and Okiba were waiting for his return. They waited for him to go back to the pen before approaching. “Where’s Misha?” Djurjage asked.

“She’s waiting for her blade to be finished…and then she convinced the salamander working on her blade to…um…” He blushed. “to have sex with her when he was done, so she sent me back here to let you know.”   
“Well, she at least kno’ ta warn us.” Okiba shook her head. “Don’ worry, she always like thi’.” 

“I hadn’t been planning on staying the night.” Djurjage muttered. “But Pilan has us doing something that will take a few days. I’ll tell you what Pilan said when we get back to the tavern.” 

Arcturus thought for a moment before he added. “I, too, have something I need to tell you when we get back.” If they were as legal and innocuous as they seemed, Djurjage wouldn’t mind him going to the meeting. If they weren’t, he didn’t want to get in trouble and go back to the life he had known. 

Back in the room, Okiba and Djurjage looked at Arcturus patiently, waiting for him to tell them what he had to say. Pacing along one of the beds, he finally turned to them. “There’s a group of humans who approached me on my way back. They claimed to be part of a group that meets to help humans accept being slaves and to help them enjoy serving their masters. They told me where and when they are meeting tonight. They want me to go.”

Djurjage raised her eyebrows. “Is that something you want, to be my obedient slave?” 

Arcturus nearly refuted that, but caught himself. “Something felt wrong about them.”

“Well, you can go tonight.” Djurjage offered. “But when you get back, I have something I need you to do.”

“And what is that?” A chill ran down his spine. 

“I’ll let you know when you get back. And don’t worry. I’ll have Okiba drop you off.” She handed him a sheet of paper. “When coming home, just show them that. It says you are on official business and can be out late.” She ruffled his hair and smiled. 

Misha still hadn’t come back by the time Okabi and Arcturus left for the meeting. They way they had described it, Arcturus had been expecting a ramshackle wooden building. This, however, was a stone building with a colonnade out front. Most of the building was covered in murals and frescos, and even at this late hour, there were people coming to and from the building. 

“Well, ah can’ see an ‘llegal group meetin’ in this place.” Okiba muttered. “Sure this ain’t ‘bout you wantin’ ta sleep wit one o’ us?” Her sharp toothed smile flashed. 

“Oh yes, I just can’t wait to get my hands on all of you.” He replied dryly. Okiba chuckled.

“Well, ah won’ be upset if’n yaw anna hop in the sack. Ah’m jus’ better at hidin’ it than Misha.” She hugged him. “Nah, go on. Ah’ll see ya tonight.” She walked away, whistling and twirling her rod as she went back to the tavern. 

Arcturus looked at the school. This was a rather gorgeous building. All of the murals seemed to be amateur work, but fairly good work. Most of the people entering the building were of the free races. However, there were a few humans around. Most were following their owners, but another group was gathering near one of the smaller doors. 

As he walked closer, his vision started to change. The world vibrated in front of him, everything expanding and shrinking at the same time, the colors inverting before kaleidoscoping. Finally, after mere moments, the world came back to normal. He broke into a cold sweat as he paused. 

He had seen the building on fire, the stones cracking, flaking, and splintering from the intensity of the heat. Above the school had been the phoenix, wings spread in triumph. Arcturus swallowed hard. He was shown what he had to do, and he knew there was no way he could get out of it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: semi-smut scene near the end, non-con

“Arcticus, I’m a little surprised you came.” The dark woman said, grabbing his hand with both of hers. “What did you tell your master?” 

“That I was going to a support group that will make me more willing to obey her and her companions.” He replied. 

“That’s wonderful. I’m sure that made her really happy to hear. My name’s…Marion. Forgot to tell you earlier.” Arcturus sat down and watched a more humans filed in. They were all ages, from people a few years younger than he was all the way to grey haired elders. They all took seats in the circle formed in the large room. By the time they were all seated, there were forty humans. 

As the meeting began, Arcturus listened to the other humans recounting their experiences. Many of them had come from towns and cities and were only there to be better at their positions. However, he noticed there were a few that, like him, had come from large scale slaveholdings. There stories often matched his for their brutality, although most of them had more demanding or demeaning masters, at least to their and Arcturus’s eyes. 

Arcturus was amazed how most of the people reacted with shock at the stories similar to his. They all had heard of harsh masters, but nothing as cold and brutal as what happened in the mines and farms. Most of these stories were followed with words of sympathy and assurances that where they were now was much better. Most of these large holding slaves agreed that they were happier where they were, and were terrified that they would be sent back or sold to less scrupulous masters if they didn’t perform correctly. 

Arcturus was glad there seemed to be other newcomers to the group ahead of him. He was able to watch everyone’s reaction to the stories, and he didn’t have to give his. They were still a few people away when Marion stood up. “This has been a wonderful evening. It’s always nice to see old faces again, and to welcome new faces. Tonight, we have had many new people, and hopefully together, we can help each other be the best that we can. As usual, we will meet in two days, at this time. I hope to see you all again.” Arcturus watched her as the other humans filed out. Her smile, while warm and large, often left her eyes, as if it was only a façade for the benefit of the others. 

Only when there were a few people left, ones who were talking intently to each other and did not seem intent on leaving immediately, did he get up to leave. As he passed Marion, she laid a hand on his arm. “Arcturus, would you mind staying behind. I know you didn’t get a chance to speak today, and I don’t want you to feel we don’t care about you.” She pitched her voice slightly louder than necessary, so that it would reach those nearby. He wondered why she did that as he let himself be led to a far area of the room. 

“Don’t worry. It was a large group, and as you said, there is a meeting in two days, I can speak then.” He smiled at her, trying to play along. 

Her smile didn’t fade from her mouth, only her eye. “You don’t need to maintain the act. I saw how you responded to the stories. You don’t really believe in this, do you?”

He was about to reply yes, but stopped to think. He finally decided on, “I would like to.” It was the truth. He would like to be able to ignore how he felt at times and for humans to be treated decently. “But believing isn’t enough at times.”

“I’m very glad to hear you say that.” She replied, a wicked glint entering her eyes. “Those are mage-bands, aren’t they? The others may not recognize them, but I do.”

He felt no point in concealing the fact. “Yes, they are. I can’t cast magic with them on though, so it doesn’t matter.”

Her smile widened. “What if I told you I could suppress them so you could cast for a few hours? And in doing so, you could strike a major victory for human rights?” He smiled at her. “Good. There is a law going before the Noble Council in one week. It will ask for some basic protections for humans. However, it’s going to fail. One of the largest opponents, an elf named Thaynlin Vermonce, fought in the Uprising and was instrumental in the humans loosing. As such, he has no love for us.”

“Where do I come in?” Arcturus asked, a shiver running up and down his spine. 

“Can you start fires?” He nodded. “How good are you at putting them out?” 

He shook his head. “Never tried.”

“I need you to.” She moved closer to him. He could smell the pear scented bath salts she used. “We plan to set a fire at his place. It will look like an accident to all involved. We need you to arrive and help put the fire out. The rest of us will also show up with the brigades and be seen as very active members of the fire brigades. This will sway people’s opinions towards us.”

“How do you know this will work with him?” Arcturus was breaking out in a sweat. This seemed very reckless.

“It won’t. There are two outcomes. First is that we sway enough of Thaynlin’s supporters that we can still take the majority. That’s preferable. The second is that he perishes and there isn’t a strong unifying voice to keep the same harsh levels of treatment. But that has the chance to backfire and make him a martyr. That’s not what we want.”

Arcturus took a long look at Marion. He wanted to believe her, he really did. But with the recent revelation that worship of the Hungry God was coming back, his paranoia was keeping him from believing her. He looked at the ground, trying to find somewhere he could look that wouldn’t betray his feelings of fear. There was something in him that screamed no. There was also another part of him that wanted to do this.

“Can I have time to think about it?” He asked.

She nodded. “We have to do it tomorrow night. He leaves for the capital the next day.” She showed him a picture of the building. It was one of the ones hanging on a wall. It was a display of different architectural styles. He had almost forgotten this was a classroom. The building she showed him was made of colored and decorated marble. The roof was sloping in an elegant curve over the outer house. The inner house was made of multiple stories, each with its own sloping, ceramic shingled roof. As he looked at the picture, the tower impossible widened as reached upwards, being farther across at the top than it was at the base. 

“Think hard. Do you want more people to go through what you and the other farm laborers have, or do you want a better life?” She patted his back. “I suggest you make your master happy tonight so she will let you out again tomorrow night.”

As Arcturus left and headed back to the tavern, he decided to take a route that would bring him past Thaynlin’s manor house. He hoped to see the same distortion and signaling that he had seen at the school. He knew it was a vain hope, but he still wanted to believe. A small manic laugh escaped him as he realized that he wasn’t going to be given a choice. As he rounded the corner, he saw the large tower of the manor soaring over the building around it. This frescos and friezes covering the outer walls and the tower were of a caliber to make the amateur work on the school seem to be ugly chicken scratch by comparison. 

As he looked at the building, his vision warped, colors inverting, the world being consumed by fire. He grabbed his head, falling to his knees with the intensity of the vision. He felt a hand on his shoulders roughly lift him and press him against a nearby wall. When his vision finally cleared, he realized he was looking into the snout of Pilan. 

“The hell are you doing out here?” She swayed slightly. He could smell the heavy scent of alcohol on her breath. She had a small keg-sized tankard of what seemed to be whiskey in her other hand. She sniffed him. A large, flat cow tongue played across her lips. “Maybe I should show you why you shouldn’t be out so late little human.”

Head still swimming, Arcturus reached into the small pouch Djurjage had given him. He pulled out the note. “Templar Duty.” He managed to croak. His vision was still swirling, flames covering everything around him in blinding flashes. 

Pilan grabbed the note and scowled. She respected Djurjage and Misha too much to delay him, no matter how much she wanted to. “Fine. I’ll walk you back to them. Maybe I can still go hunting for a good night with Misha.” She grumbled, grabbing him by the collar around his neck. She pulled out a leather leash and clipped it on, giving her a better grip on him. 

Arcturus stumbled behind the long-legged minotaur, trying to focus on the here and now and not the vision. He barely registered that they made it back to the tavern or that he had a leash on. It wasn’t till he was lead into the room they had rented that he realized his situation. 

“Why do you have a leash on him?” Djurjage’s deep voice rumbled through the fog in his head.

“He was stumbling around after curfew. Figured I better keep a good grip on him before someone less scrupulous stole him away.” She unhooked the leash and pushed Arcturus forwards. “Hey, Misha, want to go and find some fun?” 

“Actually, we were about to talk about that favor we’re doing for you.” Djurjage sat on one of the beds. Okiba went over to examine Arcturus for any injuries or signs of drugging. “Mind joining us.” Pilan huffed through her nose and face planted onto one of the beds. 

“What mission do we have?” Misha asked, moving over to sit next to her battle-sister. 

“Pilan wants us to go to some large party tomorrow. Rumors say there is to be an assassination attempt, politically motivated. We are going to be working as guards. If we find any of these assassins, we are to capture them for information on who hired them.”

“Ya think they been hir’d? M’be they’re doin’ it themselves.” Okiba looked up from where she had been examining Arcturus’s eyes. 

“Yeah, they aren’t planning this themselves.” Pilan’s voice was being muffled by the bedding. “If they thought this through, they would know what they are doing would only make their cause fail all the quicker.”

“So, tomorrow night, I need you all clear eyed and ready to be guards.” She turned to Arcturus, sparing a glance to Pilan. “I need you to use every trick in your book tomorrow, do you understand.”

“No humans allowed at this party.” Pilan muttered into the pillow.

“May I ask where this is happening?” He kept his head down.

“At the Vermonce estate.” Djurjage informed him. He nodded. “Well, we can do this with just the three of us. It would have been nice to have four, but it won’t be a problem.”

“Can Misha and I go now, mother?” Pilan muttered. 

“Fine.” Djurjage muttered. “We can make a plan tomorrow. I’m getting an early night so I can do something productive tomorrow.” Pilan stood with a groan of annoyance and grabbed Misha, planting the kobold on her shoulders. Okiba got up and followed them, stating that she needed to wash away the dust from the road.

Soon, Arcturus and Djurjage were alone. Having already eaten, the templar started stripping. “There’s still some food over there.” She pointed to the table. “Eat what you want.”

Arcturus walked over to the plate and grabbed some food. Before he took his first bite, he turned to Djurjage, who was still taking her armor off. Thinking back to what Marion had said, he walked over and started helping her remove the armor and her clothing. 

“What are you doing?” She asked him. Biting his tongue, Arcturus meekly backed off.

“I was doing what I was taught I should do.” He replied.

“At the group?” She eyed him critically.

“Yes. They are a group that helps humans be better slaves for their masters. I’m also told they help us with coming to terms with our place, and even enjoying it.” He kept his head down, trying not to mess this up. “I…I want to be the slave you thought you were getting.” He spoke slowly, trying not to gag on each word.

Djurjage grabbed his shoulders gently. “Is this what you want? I’m not going to order you to go there, but I will encourage you if you want to. I knew what I was getting, but if this makes you feel better, then I will not stop you.” 

It was hard to lie to her. Looking into those large, gentle eyes, he wanted to confess what Marion had told him. He wanted to beg for her forgiveness and offer himself to her use. He swallowed hard. “I don’t want to go back. I prefer having you as my master.” Djurjage nodded and motioned for him to continue. Hesitantly, he took off Djurjage’s armor and helped hang it up. When he finished, he saw the large firbolg in one of the beds, falling asleep. He could hear Marion’s voice telling him that he should give her pleasure, a night she wouldn’t forget.

Gingerly, he slid under the covers with Djurjage, slipping out of his robe and panties, even taking the gloves off. Sliding closer, he placed his naked flesh against her side. The tall firbolg stirred and looked down at him. Her brows moved together in confusion as he lowered himself down her body, running his hands through her fur till he got to the cleft between her legs. Her breath hitched as his fingers went from the warm fuzz of her fur to the wet slickness of her folds. 

“You do…don’t need to DO this.” She said through his inexpert touching. Not that she had much to base his ministrations on. Arcturus didn’t reply. He kept rubbing her, trying to make his way between her legs. “I never even…even said…I…I want this.” Her breathing was getting heavier. 

“Do you want me to stop, master?” He asked, not stopping. He prayed she would say yes and this would be the end of it. He didn’t want to do this. But he hoped that it would make her more willing to let him out tomorrow while they were busy. 

“No…no I don’t.” She moaned as a finger slipped inside of her. With a loud groan, she pulled him off her. “But I need you to stop. I can’t do this.” Her chest was still heaving as her body was still reacting to the sensations it just had taken away. “I can’t feel right about you doing this, even if you say it’s what you want. Not when you’re my slave.” She pulled him up her body so their heads were on the same level, his arms trapped by his side. “What was that all about?”

“I just thought you might like to enjoy me the way all your companions want to.” He murmured. 

“Is this what they told you to do in that group? Pleasure me?” She sat up to get a better look at Arcturus, her previous feelings of pleasure forgotten. He nodded. “Why? That’s an order.” She grabbed the collar around his neck. “Why would someone who promised himself to another first if he ever felt like having sex break that promise within the same day?”

Arcturus shrank on the bed, crumpling into himself. He wanted to keep his mouth shut or tell her that he realized he owed her, but he could feel the truth being pulled from him. He started crying as he told her the plans Marion had for the next night, and why he was trying to pleasure her. 

Djurjage listened quietly. Once he had stopped, she grabbed him by the collar around his neck. Lifting him from the bed, she led him to the door. “I should push you out there right now and not come looking for you till morning for what you were trying to do.” Arcturus stiffened in fear. He knew well enough what would probably happen if she did that. “You should have told me what they planned to do.” She tightened her grip. “We could have worked out a plan together.” Even tighter still. “From now on, when you go anywhere without any of us or I ask you what happened, you tell me everything.” She led him out of the room. At some point, she had gotten a robe on her body, but he was still naked. “And I still don’t think you told me everything.” 

They made their way down the stairs. Some heads turned, many of them laughing, others smiling knowingly. She moved to where Misha, Pilan, and Okiba were sitting. A group of people had gathered around them. Some were gambling with them, others were just watching and joking with them. Djurjage leaned down and whispered in his ear. “When you are ready to tell me what you are keeping back, lean into my ear and tell me. Till then, stand there and serve me like the slave you apparently want to be.” 

Djurjage sat down as Misha and Okiba looked at her and Arcturus with shock. Misha was about to speak when Okiba stopped her. She pointed to Arcturus’s hands and the angry look on Djurjage’s face. Her frown had grown.

“Deal me in.” Djurjage said evenly. “Slave, get me a drink. You know what I like.” She didn’t even turn as she handed the coin to Arcturus. Swallowing hard, Arcturus went and ordered a sweet pear drink in a large container. He carefully brought it back, trying not to spill any as people jostled into him. By the time he made it back, he had been groped, slapped, bruised, and even cut by someone with overly sharp claws and too much alcohol. He placed the drink down near Djurjage and moved to stand behind her. 

Before he could move, she grabbed his arm and pulled him onto her lap. With one hand she held her cards, with the other, she started rubbing his inner thigh. He immediately stiffened in shock, but Djurjage didn’t seem to care. She looked at her cards. Pulling her hand from his thighs, she tossed two cards into the middle, picking up her replacements. Her hand dropped back to his lap. “Slave, toss in two of the silver coins.” He hesitated slightly and she squeezed a little on his groin. He squeaked a little before putting the bet in. “Good little slave. Remember, a good slave obeys immediately.”

The game continued. Djurjage would occasionally order Arcturus to bring her stein to her lips, to toss in some cards, or to add a bet. As often as she could, her hands were all over his body, teasing him and showing him off to any who wanted to see, whether for pleasure or laughs. She even let Pilan touch him occasionally. 

Half an hour passed by before Arcturus finally leaned over and whispered into Djurjage’s ear. “I’ll tell you everything.” His voice cracked as his sense of self was near breaking. Djurjage finished the hand and collected her small winnings. Once again holding him by the collar, she led him back up to the room. 

“Now, what were you keeping from me.” She growled. Flushing with embarrassment and shame, Arcturus told her of the figure that had given him the amulet and how they had visited him the night before. He told how he had struck a bargain with this being, and his part was to burn down one building. He told her of the visions he saw at the school and the estate. Djurjage listened patiently, taking in everything Arcturus said. A twinge of sympathy plucked at her heart, seeing how she had broken him. When he was done, she pulled him back onto her lap and wrapper her arms around him. “Don’t ever hold back on me again. I’m responsible for you, and I need you to tall me everything. I don’t like what I just did, but if you ever try to be a normal slave again, I will start treating you like that. That includes using you for our pleasure.” She tucked him in against her furry body, burying his head against her breasts. 

Ten minutes later, when Misha and Okiba came back to the room, Pilan having gone off to her own place, they found both of them asleep, Arcturus’s back pressed tightly against Djurjage. Still highly confused and aroused from what had just been happening downstairs, Misha slipped from her clothing and crawled under the covers. Before she could do more than get on the bed, Arcturus’s arms reached out and grabbed her, pulling her close. Looking up, she saw that he was still asleep. 

Smiling, she pressed her chest to him, grabbing onto his sides in a near death grip. Her tail curled upwards, gingerly running along the length of his semi-swollen length. She purred, whole body vibrating against Arcturus.

Okbia smiled, shaking her head. Getting into the other bed, she too, soon fell asleep. 

Arcturus woke in the middle of the night, feeling overly warm. Against his back was the furry mass of Djurjage. In front of him was the supple leather and scale hide of Misha. As his mind came too, he started being able to determine what the different sensations were. He could feel that his ass was being pressed into Djurjage’s crotch by one of her massive arms. Her breasts were a soft cushion on his head, enveloping him in their warmth. Misha was a small oven in front of him, her pillowy chest pressed to his as her legs had spread to grasp his torso closer. He could feel the moist head coming from her crotch as it was pressed to his stomach. 

As he came closer to full consciousness, he realized with a terrified fear that there was an aching need in the pit of his gut. He remembered the intense groping he had been subjected to the last night. He knew the need he was feeling was simply a physical reaction, and it had no measure on his level of enjoyment. As he looked down, he realized that Misha’s tail was slowly undulated against his length, giving him the smallest amount of stimulation. 

Trying to move without making either, He had just managed to move Djurjage’s arm off him when he felt a tongue lick his chest briefly. Shivering in shock and confusion, he looked down to see Misha blink blearily as she licked her lips. She smiled up at Arcturus. “Lovely dream.” She muttered. 

“It’s not a dream.” He replied, trying to keep his voice gentle and low. It took a few moments for the words to penetrate Misha’s mind. Her eyes went wide and her grey skin turned teal.   
“Sorry. Didn’t know what was happening.” She removed herself from his chest and crotch. She started to leave the bed but Arcturus gently pulled her back. 

“What happened last night was because I…I tried to manipulate Djurjage. I hid information from her, and in an attempt to conceal that fact, I tried to pleasure her. She did that to show me what my life would be if that was the route I wanted to go.” Normally, he would have been avoiding eye contact with anyone as he spoke of this, but he felt he could look Misha in the eyes as he explained it to her. 

“You want that?” She asked, worried. 

“No…I mean, not against my will. I don’t want to be used without being able to say yes or no.” He started moving again. “You stay asleep…I need…I need to handle something.”

“Sorry. Misha’s fault. Rubbing with tail all night.” Her teal brightened, covering her entire body. “Maybe use Misha to relieve yourself?” She rolled over to face him, arm laying seductively against her hip, ears twitching in a manner that causes Arcturus to pause. 

He smiled. Misha had offered herself to him, almost reversing the roles. He was almost about to say yes when Djurjage’s arm flopped back over to where the warmth had disappeared. It landed on Misha and pulled her close. The small kobold’s eyes bugged out as she was crushed to the larger woman’s bosom. Arcturus chuckled to himself as he went to the other bed and slipped under the covers near the foot, falling back asleep almost immediately.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Smut scene near the end, consensual.

“Ya saw vision’ a’ both places?” Okiba asked over a late breakfast the next morning. Arcturus had been the only one to wake early. He had thought hard about what Djurjage had said and done the previous night. He didn’t want that life. But he also didn’t want to make life harder for his companions. So, rather than wait for them to wake up, he had taken some Claws and told the halfling at the bar that he was there to get his mistress and her friends food. 

When he had come back up, the smell of the fresh food had woken all of them. Djurjage had eyes him curiously, but he only smiled bashfully. She was about to question him when her stomach grumbled and he had a platter of food ready for her. “Figured I should determine what I want to be.” She nodded, slowly eating the food.

Arcturus had then told all of them what had happened with the mystery figure, the meeting, and even why Djurjage had acted the way she did the previous night. He had put on the panties Misha had given him, giving him the barest amount of modesty, while the rest had remained undressed for breakfast. 

“Yeah, The vision was stronger at Thaynlyn’s house than at the old school.” Arcturus went to raise the bacon to his mouth, only to see that it had been eaten from his fingers. He looked down at Misha, who only had a self-satisfied grin on her lips. 

“Wha’ did tha’ figua’ say ta exactly?” Okiba had a pad of paper and a pen out, taking notes.

Arcturus thought back. “They said there was a rot in the building, and that I had to burn it all.”

“My guess? Both group be tha ta’get.” She finished, checking over her notes. 

“That…makes sense.” Djurjage admitted. “And you need to kill both?” 

“All I know is that the vision was stronger, and when I asked if people would die, the figure didn’t answer.” Djurjage let out a lowing groan. 

“Great, so you have to kill the person we have to guard?” 

“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.” Arcturus looked down at the honeyed toast he was eating.

“We guard, you come in. Do what you must. We make sure others don’t live. We distracted.” Misha placed some bacon on his toast, smiling up at him. 

“That’s a bad plan.” Djurjage replied. Sighing, she leaned forwards. “But I don’t see a better one.”

The finished breakfast mostly in silence. As they got ready to leave, Arcturus helped Djurjage get her equipment on. Neither of them said anything, but Arcturus was secretly happy she let him do this. It made him feel useful in a way that he could be proud of. That proud feeling disappeared as Misha asked if he could help her. 

As he slid her shorts over her hips, she leaned in and whispered. “If not interrupted last night, what would you answer?” She grabbed his hands, keeping them against her ass as she looked for the answer in his eyes. 

Flicking his wrists to break the hold gently, he finished pulling up the shorts. “Yes.” He whispered as he turned away to join Djurjage. He gave her tail a slight tug, before slipping on the rest of his clothing. 

They spent the rest of the day wandering around the town, looking into different shops. Arcturus played the dutiful slave well, staying just behind Djurjage and obeying her orders as fast as possible. For her part, Djurjage only gave him simple tasks to do. Even though he seemed to be playing the part well, she wanted him to know that she still saw him as more than a slave. 

As the sun sank in the western sky, Okiba once again took Arcturus to the school. They figured it would look better if he had the same person drop him off. Marion and three of the others were waiting for him inside. 

“Your master let you out tonight as well?” She chuckled knowingly. “Either you did a really good job or a really bad job.” 

“Nah, she’s not one for that near the end of the day. She prefers it when she wakes up.” He chuckled, his skin prickling with sweat as he attempted to pass off the lie. 

“Don’t worry, it might not be your thing the first time, but eventually, you’ll love it.” Marion smiled at him. Arcturus realized she actually meant it. His heart ached as he reminded himself of what he had to do. 

“Are you sure we need to do this?” He asked, flexing his hands in the gloves. 

“Yes.” She stated simply. “If we don’t do this, we may never have another chance within our lifetimes.” Arcturus sighed. He knew she was dedicated to truly helping others. He was glad that they had decided he wouldn’t be the one to kill them. 

They left the school via the front after half an hour and broke into group of two and a group of three. Arcturus found himself with Marion. The other three were going to get the fire teams ready. It was down to Arcturus and Marion to set the fires, then join the fire brigades. They walked quickly through the streets, heavy baskets in their arms. Most people let them past without a second glance. 

They placed the baskets down around the corner from the villa. Marion pulled out black clothing from in her basket. “You have some in there. Tuck your clothing into the basket and we’ll hide them here.” She pointed to a nook under a tree a few feet away. She quickly stripped down and started dressing. That was another thing Arcturus noted. No one seemed to care that a pair of humans was getting undressed. He pulled his clothing out. It was long legged pants that cinched at the waist and each ankle. The shirt was fairly tight, covering from his waist up to his chin and back down to his wrists. There was also a small shroud for his face. 

“We need to wait till Thaynlyn gives his speech. We will have some time to set up, but once he starts the speech, we will only have a few minutes before you need to light the fires. I’ll set up the fire, you just make sure no one stumbles on me.” She handed him a potion. “Take this, it will help you overcome the effects of the collar.” He quickly uncorked the potion and drank the rank smelling liquid.

Holding down a sputter, Arcturus clenched and unclenched his hands nervously. He followed behind Marion, mirroring her confidence. He started sweating when Marion knocked on one of the side doors. Rather than the door opening, a rope came over the wall and landed near them. They quickly scrambled up the rope, pulling it with them afterwards. Inside, they saw a half elven, half human, man standing there, purposefully ignoring them. 

“Guess better rights for us means better rights for halfbreeds too.” Arcturus muttered. Marion merely nodded. The inner courtyard of the villa was immense compared to the outer walls. He looked around, trying to measure the distance. 

“He has some sort of magic. The whole villa only takes up one hundred feet aside on the street, but in reality, it’s closer to five hundred.” Marion placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t let it get to you. We are headed to the kitchens and his private suites. The rest of this place is made for parties.” She led him through the trimmed, waving grass, reflective ponds, stone and sand gardens, and small shrines to a small door near a larger set made for wagons. 

As he waited by the door for Marion to pick the lock, he looked at the intricate carvings near the door. It was a scene from the Uprising, showing a squad of elven mages blasting apart demons and humans. As he looked at the details, he saw the humans weren’t generic, but each of them was picked out in immense detail. They each had their own personalities, disfigurements, and distinguishing marks. He could also see the pain and anguish in each of their faces as they were killed. 

Arcturus was grateful when the lock popped open and they were able to go inside. As they entered into the kitchen, Arcturus was amazed to see that even here, the slate stone was dressed and decorated. They could hear fervent work in the kitchen, with the occasional bellow of the head cook scolding an underling. 

“This way. We need some of the cooking oil.” She led him to a large door that lead down a set of stairs. The new room they were in was much cooler than the rest of the house, the scent of slate overwhelming. Squeezing his fist and summoning the ghost flames, he sent them dancing through the room. They were in a storage room. Boxes and barrels were stacked neatly, while on one side of the basement was a large set of wine racks. A metal door that radiated cold and ice stood at the far end of the room, and a large, wire cage door showed where the dumbwaiter entered from the kitchen above. 

Marion went over to a clutch of large ceramic amphorae. She grabbed ten of the clay jars nearby and started dipping a label into one of the amphorae, dolling out oil to the containers. Arcturus sealed all of them, keeping an eye on the door and the dumbwaiter. Once they were done filling them, Marion pointed to the small hammer on the far end of the room. 

“Break the back of these ones. I’ll set up a candle trap to ignite in about forty minutes.” Arcturus grabbed the mallet and started quietly breaking the back of the amphorae, using a wooden doorstop as a chisel to quiet the impacts. As the oil seeped into the floor and the boxes around it, Marion set up a candle on a platform. She balanced it on a peg, using twine to hold it in place. Measuring the candle, she ran the twine two-thirds they way down the candle. “When the candle burns down enough, it will start burning through the twine, then fall in the oil.” She smiled at him. It was fairly simple. 

“Where do we need these?” He asked, motioning to the jugs. 

“We’ll put those in the family rooms. Those will go up quickly.” Marion led the way through the servant’s passageways to the family quarters. 

“How do you know your way around here?” He asked quietly. 

Marion hesitated as she opened the door. “The last time Thaynlyn was gone, he took most of his family and servants with him. His wife stayed behind, and to help, she hired out some slaves to help around the house. Thaynlyn was furious when he came back. He ordered all slaves who had been in his house to be flogged and abandoned…It’s hard without a master.” Her face hardened. “I was nearly dead when my Richard found me. Now, now I want to make sure that doesn’t happen to anyone again.” She led him inside. As they crept along the corridor towards the bedrooms, Arcturus heard a voice in an adjoining hallway.

“You cover party floor. Will make sweep here.” He could pick out Misha’s voice and speech patterns anywhere. 

“Marion, we have someone coming. I’ll see to them.” Arcturus placed the oil jugs on the ground. “You get this done.” Marion nodded as Arcturus fretted with his gloves, slipping off towards the voice. He kept going till he got to the corner. Leaning in, he heard the clop of hooves moving away. After a minute, the hallway fell silent and he heard the soft padding and clicking of Misha’s feet on marble. He waited till Misha came around the corner before springing on her, wrapping an arm around her muzzle with one hand while the other held her arms to her side. He quickly backed into the closest room, quietly closing the door. 

Misha was wriggling in his arms, trying to free herself from his grasp. As the door closed, she saw who was holding her. “Don’t scare like that.” She gasped, her struggles dying away. “Why grab me like that?”

“I had to make it look real.” He whispered in her long ear. It twitched as his breath ran along it. “Now, I’m going to have to leave you in here for a little while.” He looked around. They were in a large linen closet. There were plenty of sheets and towels he could tie her up with and gag her for a little while. “I won’t tie to tightly, just enough that if Marion sees you, she won’t question it.”

“Can tie me tightly.” Misha wriggled in his arms, resting her breasts on his arm that encircled her. “To victor go spoils.” Her tail wriggled around, rubbing his ass. Arcturus grabbed her tail near the base, lifting it slightly. Misha purred deeply, pushing herself back against him. Grabbing down a linen cloth, he wrapped Misha’s arms behind her. As he got to her hands, she moved so that she was holding the base of her tail, exposing her ass. “Tie like this.” 

“You really want me, don’t you?” Arcturus asked, his voice soft and gentle as he tied her hands around her tail.

“Yes. Family always had close connection with humans. Had ancestors in past when more draconic.” Misha replied, turning her head so she could look up at him from the ground. She was trying to brace herself, legs spread, tail raised. 

“So, is it just that I’m human?” A coolness flowed through Arcturus. His emotions seemed to move far away, and he viewed the scene as if a spectator to the events. He ran one hand along her ass, giving each cheek a slight squeeze. Misha chortled in delight, her tail wagging in the air. 

“Not all, but part. You strong willed, skilled, nice. Bad is no fun.” Her ears flicked slowly, making her seem more bashful.

“And what would happen if I were to take advantage of you right now? You said humans were ancestors. Doesn’t that imply that I could get you pregnant…or fertilize your eggs?” Arcturus ran a his hand down her ass, reaching the wet patch between her legs. Misha gasped even though he was only touching her over her pants. Her skin, normally gray, turned deep teal as he mentioned him fertilizing her eggs. “So that’s it then. You’re getting ready to drop an egg and you feel the need to have it fertilized, and you want me to try.” 

Arcturus wasn’t sure if he was relieved or upset. He wanted to be relieved that it was just her hormones that caused her to flirt with him and try to sleep with him. It made the world simpler for him and easy to understand. To his surprise, a large part of him was upset. He didn’t just want to be a fuck toy. He wanted to be seen as a person, not a source of pleasure. He hated that he had only been seen as a source of labor or pleasure through humiliation throughout his life. He had hoped that he could move beyond that.

Anger flared through him as he looked down at the blushing kobold. Maybe he should show her what it was like to be in his position. Sparks cascaded along his hand as he raised it, poised to deliver a magically enhanced strike to her bottom. Her eyes went wide with fear. It wasn’t the mock fear she had when he was tying her up, but true fear. Flames joined the lightning enveloping his hand as he stood over her. 

Slowly, his arm dropped down to his side, the magic dissipating. Hands shaking, he quickly untied Misha and pulled her to his chest. I’m sorry.” He whispered to her. 

Misha twisted herself around. “It ok. Know you had bad experience. Shouldn’t have asked you to tie me. Just like bondage and being small with big partner.” She sat back, looking at him through lowered eyes.

“Next time we can try that.” He whispered. Sliding a hand behind her head, he pulled her close. “But let’s both be free this time.” His lips met her muzzle, and Misha melted against him. Arcturus gripped the purple hair on the back of her head and pressed her harder against him, turning their kiss into a deep, passionate, spread-lipped kiss. He lowered his other hand, the fingers trailing on her skin till he found her top and ripped it down. She moaned into his mouth as his gloved fingers slid over her nipple. 

“Take off.” She broke away from the kiss, showing off her full breasts, each tipped with a black nipple. Her clawed hands scrabbled at his hands, removing the gloves. Once they were off, she thrust his hands on her breasts. With his hands now occupied, she slipped out of her pants, showing the wet patch where she had gotten aroused by the bondage. Licking her lips, she moved her hands to his waist, pulling at his pants. 

Moving one of her breasts to his mouth, Arcturus started suckling on Misha’s nipple, causing her to squeal as his now freed hand helped her strip his pants off. “Still have my panties.” She giggled, pulling them to one side and releasing his quickly stiffening penis. Breathing in an air of satisfaction, Misha placed a leg on either side of Arcturus’s hips. Slowly, she lowered herself down till his tip was pressed against her folds. She paused, closing her eyes, a grand smile on her face.

“Are you going to…” Misha’s clawed hand pressed on Arcturus’s mouth. 

“Shhh. Don’t ruin moment.” She stayed there for a few more moments before letting herself fall back, her soaked canal, made for letting eggs out, opened easily to take his entire length to the hilt. There was a loud clap as her ass hit his thighs. “Ahhh!” 

Arcturus’s eyes rolled in his head. For all the times he had been used, he had never used his dick. The sensation was intense. She was hot, but the lubrication generously flowing down her walls was enough to keep it from being painfully hot. Her muscles seemed to be perfectly suited for milking him. Her muscles rhythmically pulsed even as she lifted herself and fell back again, creating a mixed sensation of massaging and stroking. 

Arcturus pulled Misha down on his hips hard, holding her steady. She whined, upset that the motion had stopped. She picked up the massaging in her vagina, trying to make up for lost sensation. Carefully, Arcturus forced himself to his feet, still buried deep inside his tiny lover. “Flip me.” Misha burbled out. Arcturus, unsure what she was getting at, turned her so she faced away from him. 

Smiling, Misha grabbed his neck with her tail and moved his arms to link with her arms and legs. Smiling, Arcturus knew what she wanted. Swinging his hips, he withdrew till just the head was still inside Misha. As the momentum reversed, he thrust forwards and pulled her in, slamming into her to the hilt with a loud slap of flesh. At this point, Misha was no longer trying to be quiet. 

Grunting in worry, Arcturus stopped the movement and shoved a pillow in Misha’s mouth. “We need to be quiet.” He whispered into one ear, kissing it. Misha’s moan stuttered into the pillow as he picked the rhythm back up and moved faster. Soon, the loud clapping of their bodies was echoing in the linen filled room. 

Barely a few minutes in, and Arcturus could feel a knot of pressure building in his abdomen. “Mi…Misha…I’m about to…” He stuttered out between thrusts. Misha immediately wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Stay…there!” She cried into the pillow. Arcturus shuddered as the knot untangled and his orgasm washed over him. Misha spasmed as she felt him release inside her, the warm liquid spraying deep into her. With a final cry, her body stiffened and she reached orgasm with him, her tail clenching on his neck. Moments before blacking out, the tail let go of his throat and Misha went limp. Moving in a controlled fall, Arcturus lay down, still buried deep inside Misha.

Minutes passed before either of them spoke again. Misha was rubbing herself against his chest, reveling in their closeness. “Should go to companion. Get suspicious or run if you stay.” She sighed, a slight moan of pleasure escaping her as Arcturus removed the large plug of flesh from within her slickened canal. “How many inside?”

“Only the two of us inside. The others are getting the fire bridges together…you might want to see where they are. This is becoming personal for them.” He explained what Marion told him as he quickly put the pants back on. As he did, he noticed the heavy musk of sex hanging on him. “Well, that’s not going to be easy to hide.”

“Misha like smell.” She stood, her teal skin burning hot as she kissed him. “Hope we make smell more, but later.” She practically tossed him from the room, her muscles bulging as he went flying. Arcturus stood, stunned for a moment. He had just had his first consensual time, and he had then been tossed from the room. His emotions were rocketing all over the place. The one thing they agreed on; sex was amazing. What had happened to him before he knew wasn’t sex. Smiling, he started walking stiff legged towards where Marion had gone to start the fires.


	8. Chapter 8

“Where were you?” Marion hissed as she saw Arcturus round the corner. She had already spread seven of the oil jars. 

“It was a guard. I had to knock her out and hide her in a way that she wouldn’t get out too soon.” Arcturus grabbed one of the jugs and started spreading it around the room. “Are we going to burn all of this?”

“Yeah, if we loot anything, they’ll know we started the fire.” She held up a pair of pouches. “Except for this. Try to slide it to your mistress quietly though.” Arcturus looked in the pouch she handed him. It was filled with Scales. His eyes widened at the amount of wealth she had given him. He then remembered what was in the pack that he carried for Djurjage. This was still a good amount. “Go take that room.” She pointed to one down the hall. 

Moving gingerly to keep from making a noise, Arcturus twisted the handle on the door-knob and opened it. As he pushed it a quarter open, he heard a voice in the room. “I said I didn’t want to come down!” A voice moaned at him. Carefully, he looked in the room. It was a bedroom for one of the children of Thaynlyn. There was a large four poster bed, almost too large for any one person of normal size. There was a clothes press, a large armoire, a vanity, and a writing desk surrounded by two bookshelves. Sitting at the desk as a large woman, nearly six feet tall. She was in a long black dress, more conservative than he had ever seen from a non-human. Her skin was a deep green and her hair a deep blue, pulled into cornrows on one side. 

Arcturus froze. They hadn’t expected to meet anyone here. They weren’t supposed to kill anyone, but if he attacked her, she might die. “What, come to see the noble’s bastard? Well, you’ve seen her now. Just because my mother was loose doesn’t mean I am too, no matter what that bitch elf Dad married says about me.” 

“Sorry…I thought the room was empty…we…we were going to clean while everyone was at the party.” He lied. The half orc’s eyes narrowed. 

“Wait…You’re human.” Her breath left her body as a moment of fear overwhelmed her. “What the hell are you doing in here?” She drew herself up to her full height, trying to impose her noble bearing on him. 

“Shit.” Arcturus cursed. He held the jug behind him and walked in the room. “Just know that I mean you no harm.” 

“Of course not. However, Father will have you flayed for being here tonight…slowly because you dared come into the family quarters.” She still held her haughty stance, but Arcturus was getting the idea that all of this was bluster. She looked to be young, barely past being an adult. Looking to the desk, he noticed the large tome seemed to be filled with arcane writings. A moment too late, he realized it was a grimoire. 

A ray of cold energy slammed into the door next to him. “Now, tell me what you are doing with that jug of oil. And be truthful. We’ll know if you’re lying.” A large raven landed on her shoulder, its black feathers blending in with her dress. 

“You probably wouldn’t believe what I said earlier if I told you.” Arcturus moved closer. “How about you grab your spell book and leave this area. You don’t need to go to the party.”

“Are you going to burn this place down? You know it’s made of stone.” She was standing four feet from him, easily within striking distance. 

“I know, but you don’t know why that really doesn’t matter to me. Now, please, gather what you need and leave this room.” He held her gaze for a long moment.

“If I leave, you know I have to tell my father.” She told him, her arrogance disappearing, making her look even younger. 

“Arcturus, by the D…gods above, what’s taking so long!” Marion hissed as she walked up to the door. Her eyes opened as she saw the half-orc. 

“You!” The young woman screamed, her raven cawing in anger. “You’re with this bitch?” A beam of ice shot from the girl’s hands, anger fouling her aim. 

“You’re the stuck up bitch.” Marion pulled a short blade and rushed forwards. Arcturus, not sure what was going on, dropped the jug and dove for Marion, knocking her off her feet. 

“What’s going on?” He growled out. 

“She tried to kill my siblings the last time she was here!” The half-orc yelled, sending another beam of ice. This one slammed into Arcturus’s back, causing him to convulse and let go of Marion. 

“Like you care about them!” Marion spat back. “I saw how they treated you!”

“That’s because Felenda tells them to.” She turned to Arcturus. “They aren’t bad when she’s not around.” She tried to send another beam of energy at Marion. The human rolled under the beam and came up, blade plunging deep into the half-orc’s thigh. She screamed as she fell to the ground, holding the gushing wound as Marion pulled back for another strike. 

Snapping his fingers, Arcturus sent a bolt of fire into Marion’s back. Running forwards, he grabbed the half-orc under her arms and started dragging her from the room. “My book!” She cried, pointing with one blood covered hand. Saying the first part of the incantation from his book, Arcturus summoned a small ball of fire and pressed it into the half-orc’s wound, searing it closed. 

“Sorry.” He dropped her, running to grab the book. Flipping it closed, he hoisted it under his arm and turned to leave. 

“Put the book down, or I burn this little whore’s daughter alive.” Marion, her voice harsh with rage, stood behind the half-orc, jug of oil in her hands.

“You’ll die too.” Arcturus pulled the ball of fire into his hand. “Put her down, and back away.”

“No!” Marion screamed back to him. “You don’t get it. You want a better life for humans, but you’re ok with being a slave. Humans don’t belong on the bottom.” She pulled the blade into the half-orc’s neck, drawing a line of blood. “We can do anything, and we are more numerous. We should be on top.” She slowly poured out the oil on her captive, cackling. “This fire will be the first of many, the fuel to feed…” 

The rest of her speak was cut off as neatly as her head was. The removed appendage flew through the air, landing in the middle of the room. Blood jettisoned from the cup for a few moments before the body crumpled to the ground. The half-orc screamed as blood covered her. 

“Sorry took so long.” Misha was still completely teal. “Afterglow.” She smiled weakly at Arcturus. 

“Don’t worry.” He smiled back at her. “You saved us.” He went to the half-orc and lifted her to standing. Her eyes were glazed over. “I think she’s in shock. We need to get her out of here.” Misha grabbed the half-orc’s feet easily, and the pair of them ran with the half-orc to the servant’s entrance. Just as they were about to open the door, there was a large thump from one of the rooms behind them. Spinning around, they saw flames shooting out of it. A moment later, another room erupted in flame. 

“My home…” The hold-orc moaned. She collapsed father in their arms. 

“Hey, you can make some ice. Think you can help us with this?” Arcturus asked her gently. She was shaking, her eyes wide and unfocused. He looked up at Misha, shaking his head. “If the fire has started here, it will begin in the storeroom in a few minutes.”

“Get her out. Will go do rest of job.” As Misha took off, a thought struck Arcturus.

“Misha!” She skidded to a stop. “Those fire brigades…I don’t think they are here to fight the fire.” Misha nodded and blew him a kiss.

“Promise not to die.” She called out, running towards the party. 

“Come on, if I can save one person, tonight won’t be a total failure.” He muttered, throwing the half-orc’s arm over his shoulder and directing her down the servant’s passageway. He was breathing heavily by the time they got to the kitchen passageways. Taking a break, he leaned her up against the wall. “Hey, what do I call you?” She didn’t reply. Arcturus checked the cover of the book he had dropped in her arms. Opening the front cover, he saw inside:

_Property of Invara._   
_Keep out!_   
_That means you Phonos!_

“Invara.” He tried the name. He shook her and called her name again.

“Huh…what are we doing here?” She looked around, her eyes landing on Arcturus and her torn dress. “Are you going to rape me?” Her body started shaking. 

“No, I’m here to save you. Your home is on fire. We need to get outside.” He gently lifted her to her feet. “You’re in shock. I’m thinking you’ve never been stabbed, covered in blood, or seen your home burn around you before?” He groaned under her weight. She was lighter than he would have thought, but still heavier than he could easily maneuver. 

“Are my siblings ok?” She asked as she let him lead her forwards. “Please, I’ve…I’ve never.”

“You’re safe with me.” He reassured her again. “Once we are outside and it is safe, I will make sure you are delivered to your father. Were your siblings at the party?” She nodded. “Then my master and her companions will make sure they are safe.”

They stumbled around the first corner, Invara holding most of her own weight by now, when a loud crumpled explosion sent fire right towards them through the hallway. Arcturus lept in front, his hands palm forwards. The fire stopped before him, sweat falling from his arms and forehead as he pressed more power into holding the fire back. Moments later, the initial explosion ended. The walls, ceiling, and floor were covered with fire. 

“Any exits?” He asked quickly. 

“Yeah…This way. I used to use it when I was younger.” She pointed through the fire. Grabbing her hand, Arcturus ran into the fire, the heat searing the bottoms of his feet and drying out his skin. He didn’t look back, he just squeezed Invara’s hand harder and followed her directions. He felt his clothing catch fire, burning and falling away from his body. 

Finally, they reached the door that Invara had told him about. Gathering his powers around him, a spike of green lightning shot from him and blew the door from its hinges. Pulling her after him, they fell on to the soft grass, the cool tendrils soothing their skin. 

“This way.” Invara coughed. They dragged themselves to a small reflecting pool. Invara made sure her book was on the grass before rolling into the pool. Arcturus followed her quickly, both of them trying to sooth the shooting pain throughout their bodies. A scorched raven dove in after them, preening the soot from its wings. 

There were screams coming from the other side of the building. Arcturus felt guilt stab at his heart. He painfully pulled himself into a seated position. All of the black clothing had burned away, and he was sitting with only his panties, amulet, and gloves on. Looking at Invara, she was in a worse state. Her dress had burned away, and she hadn’t been wearing anything underneath. Both of them were covered in soot, burn blisters, and a few blackened spots of skin. Their hair had been singed away at the ends, leaving them both with only an inch of hair or so. 

“Shi’, over hea’” A voice called out. Moments later, a green face thrust itself into Arcturus’s sight. Okiba’s fang filled maw smiled down at him. “Misha said ta find ya, might be ‘urt.” Pink energy bubbled down and covered both of their bodies. Arcturus could feel his burns healing and see the large cut on Invara’s leg close slightly. “Come on, gotta git ya both gone.”

“You…how many of the guards are in on this plot?” Invara glared as she pulled herself from the water. Okiba held out a long blanket to the naked young woman. She quickly wrapped it around herself.   
“They…they’re not really in on it.” Arcturus coughed, the pinkish energy pulling black sludge from his lungs. “They are guarding you. I was…I was to infiltrate the ground and try to minimize the loss of life from the inside. I was hoping to gain more information than I did.” 

“Thar’s a big tussle ou’ fron’.” Okiba helped them stand. “Gonna git back an’ help out. You two stay hea’ an safe.” Okiba gave Arcturus a wink and ran off back to the front, where they could hear fighting.   
Invara shook as she listened to the fight and saw her home on fire. Arcturus wasn’t sure what to do, and decided to sit on one of the benches. He needed to think of where to take her, and even if she would go with him. He looked back to the burning building and shook his head. He should have known it wasn’t a simple arson Marion was after, but something made him want to believe her. 

“And this is why Dad hates humans.” Invara looked at the burning building, her voice barely audible over the crackling and fighting. 

“It’s not that hard to understand.” Arcturus replied, eyes playing over the dance and flow of the fire. He watched the door, wondering if anyone else was going to run out of the building from that way. “I’m not sure if this is from our contact to the darker powers or slavery.”

“Does it matter?” She asked. They were silent for a moment before she sighed. As they watched the fire, they noticed a dark shape exit from the door. “Is that…” The figure lurched towards them. It was humanoid in shape, mimicking a human without a head. It was naked, flesh burnt and twisted, a large maw opening in its stomach. 

Arcturus snapped his fingers and sent a bolt of fire towards the figure. The blaze impacted the creature in the chest, further scorching the skin but otherwise not having an impact. “We need to get out of here, now!” He pulled Invara to her feet and started pushing her away.

“My book.” The half-orc recovered from her stupor and ran back for the large tome, one hand clutching the blanket around her tightly. The figure was within ten paces of Invara when it thrust the mouth in its torso forwards and a torrent of black liquid vomited forth. Invara jumped back, screaming as the black liquid sizzled on the ground. 

Sprinting forwards, Arcturus felt his powers surge forth, adding speed to his steps. He didn’t realize that he had run a foot above the surface of the pool. He slammed his fist into the creature’s burnt chest, the power of the wind causing a burst of air, tossing the creature backwards. 

Invara stopped screaming enough to shout an invocation. Blades of ice slammed into the creature, pinning it to the ground. The creature stopped moving, deflating from the mouth in its middle. More of the black ooze started seeping from the mouth, melting the body till all that was left was the skeleton and a dark metal object laying in the ribcage. 

Hesitantly, Arcturus moved forwards till he could see the amulet. Rage welled within him as he looked at the blank face. Snapping his hand, he ignited it. Over and over he sent fire into it until the metal ran and melted, creating an amorphous lump.

“What was that?” Invara’s voice was a juxtaposition to her form; shy and nervous rather than full and confident. 

“You being right.” Arcturus replied, grabbing her hand and leading her away from the scene. “I know where we can get you some clothing. Then you can go be with your family again.”

“What about you? Aren’t you going to help with the fighting?” Invara pulled the blanket tighter as they exited the compound. 

Arcturus huffed. “I’ll be killed if I appear there.” He led her to where they hid the baskets. Pulling out the clothing, he gave her a pair of pants and a shirt. Both were short and tight on her, but covered her up well enough. He put his light tunic on. “Well, go on, you’ll be safe enough inside your compound.” He turned, walking away as bells rang, calling the militia and fire prefects to the conflagration happening behind them.


	9. Chapter 9

Arcturus fiddled with the amulet at his waist. He needed something to center himself. He had, even unknowingly, served the Devouring Hunger. His skin prickled with a cold unnatural in the heat of the evening. Tears welled in his eyes as he thought of what he had done, and the betrayal Marion and her companions represented. 

He couldn’t even bring himself to think of the consequences, especially if any of the other humans had a symbol on them. There may even be a call to eradicate humans. 

When Djurjage and the others came back, they saw Arcturus still with his head in his hands, having been motionless for the past hour as he grappled with what he had learned. Pilan had come back with them. All four of them were covered in cuts, bruises, and matted gore. Arcturus looked up more from the smell of them entering rather than the sound. The burnt smell underlying the viscera reminded him of the monster Marion had become. 

“Good, you’re safe.” Djurjage sounded truly relieved that Arcturus was ok. “I wasn’t sure you got back here.” She pulled him into her arms and nearly crushed him in a hug. “Come on, we need to get clean.”

“I don’t think that’s smart.” Pilan sank into one of the chairs stiffly, favoring her left leg. “They’re going to be hunting whatever humans they can get tonight.”

“I doubt they will try anything with four powerful warriors around him.” Djurjage answered. “And I am not going to bed like this.”

“Then we’re going to the Onyx Drop. They have private rooms, and I’m guessing you want him in with you.” Pilan looked as if she wanted to stand, but a stab on pain in her side made her hesitate. 

“Also, walls stone.” Misha added. “Easier to talk without others hearing.”

“Good. Arcturus, get on Pilan’s other side and lets help her get to the bathhouse.” Djurjage heaved the large minotaur onto her feet. Arcturus only came up to the top of her abdomen. He was thankful that Djurjage took her injured side so that Pilan wasn’t resting all her weight on him. Her hand was resting on his shoulder, close to his neck. Every once in a while, her fingers would flex, as if she was trying to pet him surreptitiously. 

Arcturus took his mind off Pilan’s fingers by looking Misha over. She was covered in red welts, splatters of blood and streaks from her wounds. “Don’t worry. Still ok.” She smiled up at him, her hips swaying with satisfaction.

“Wha’s w’th her?” Okiba asked, taking the spot Misha had previously occupied as the kobold took the lead. Hoping the dark of the night would cover his blush, Arcturus merely shrugged his shoulders.  
Guards thundered through the streets, hunting down any lone humans they could. From many of the nearby alley’s, the group could hear the sounds of combat. Steel rang against steel and stone or took out chunks of wood. Mostly, these ended quickly as the guards overwhelmed the small pocket of human fighters. Once in a while, the screaming continued long after the fighting stopped. Every time that happened, Arcturus attempted to rush off to help. Those were screams he could pick out anywhere. He knew the pain, fear, and anger behind those screams. 

A large hand grabbed him tightly. Pilan pulled him close to her, her hand moving from his shoulder to his head, blocking his ears. As he looked up, ready to dare her to keep him from rushing to his fellow’s aid, he saw the pain in her face from what she was doing. Her ears were drooping and the normal smile on her face was gone. “Don’t, you won’t help them and you’ll only suffer their fate.”

The Onyx Drop was a large, semi-submerged stone building that emanated heat. The aquatic-variant Rai woman sitting behind the counter reading a magazine. She barely looked up as they came in. “Can I interest you in our private party rooms? We are having a special tonight.” She pointed to the board above her. Written in blue, glittering light were the words: 

_Party rooms: min. 5 people, 2 hour rental._   
_Special: half-off with party favor._

“Normally, we can’t count the favor as a person, but since you were helping quell the riot," she pointed a webbed hand at the bloody armor and injuries. "I’m going to count it.” She held out paperwork for them to fill out. Pilan and Djurjage were the first to fill out the information. Arcturus felt Okiba and Misha grab onto him, trying to remind him to remain calm. Small flames and sparks were phasing around his clenched, shaking hands. Slowly, the arcane display dissipated.

“Remember, we are not responsible for items that are lost or damaged while partying, and anything that you damage will need to be paid for. We have soaps and oils, both medical and hygienic. If you need any preventatives or enhancement drugs or amulets, we have some available.” She pointed to a second sign. 

“We have everything we need.” Djurjage rumbled. 

The woman barely noticed the repressed anger and, with the same bored manner she had done everything else with, she handed them the key. “Down the left hall, fourth door on the right. Rooms are soundproof, so don’t worry about keeping it down.” Once they took the key, she went back to reading the magazine on the desk.

The room was fairly large, with the pool taking up most of the floorspace. There was a large table with the oils, soaps, washcloths, bandages, and towels. A thin veil of steam filled the air. “Ok, anyone care for privacy or no?” Pilan asked as she started to remove her clothing clumsily, unable to bend over. 

“No. Besides, I don’t like bubble baths.” Djurjage started removing her gear. Arcturus helped Pilan loosen her clothing, guiding the injured minotaur into the water. 

“Shit, this feels so good.” She settled back, some of the blood and grime already leeching from her fur and skin into the water. As Arcturus watched, the grime disappeared, and the water retained its pristine coloring. Pilan saw his shocked expression from the corner of her eye. “They’ve spelled these to remove impurities from the water, other than their special soaps and oils of course.” She reached a hand up and cupped his head from behind, showing off the well-toned muscles of her upper body. “Care to help me wash down? I can’t reach everywhere I need to.” 

“Misha need help too.” The kobold sat on the edge of the pool, her feet spread in the water. “Please?” She widened her eyes at Arcturus. They all chuckled at Misha’s antics. Pilan’s nose twitched and turned her head to Misha.

“When did you have a chance to get laid this evening?” Pilan pouted. 

“Yeah, you were supposed to be in the family quarters making sure the assassins with Arcturus didn’t get away.” Djurjage asked, piling her armor against the wall and stripping off the small amount of clothing she wore. 

“Misha was! Tell them.” She turned to Arcturus. “Killed lead assassin. Saved Thaynlyn’s daughter!” Pilan turned to Arcturus, eyes narrowed. 

“It’s true. We didn’t expect her, Invara, to be there and I tried to get her to leave peacefully. Marion, the ringleader, and Invara recognized each other and started fighting. Misha came and saved us before running back to warn you.” Arcturus, seeing everyone else was in the bath, went get the soaps set up. When he came back to the edge, he started brushing Pilan’s back, kneeling near the edge of the bath.

The muscled minotaur rolled her eyes and looked at Djurjage. Chuckling, the templar moved over to their side of the pool. “Arc, join us in here. You need this as much as we do from what Okiba told me.” Arcturus hesitated for a moment before standing up and removing his clothing, letting it fall in a pile near the wall. His gloves were the last to follow, leaving him only with manacles and the phoenix amulet around his waist. 

As he slid into the pool, Pilan leaned in and sniffed him. Her eyes widened and she laughed in triumph. “I know it! You told me to leave the family area and it was a good half hour till you came back saying the fire had started. It wasn’t that large an area to cover.” Her laugh came out in lowing booms. “I bet you spent most of that time getting your eggs basted.” Misha glared at the smirking minotaur, arms crossed. “It’s true! I’m not blaming you for doing that. He is cute…for a human.” She turned to Djurjage. “Can I take him for a spin too?”

“That’s his choice.” Djurjage said, gently rubbing soap into the goblin’s back. “Misha practically threw herself at the mercy of any lust he might have.” 

“Can we…talk about what happened tonight instead?” Arcturus asked as he rubbed soap into Pilan’s injured leg. The minotaur was letting out gentle moos as her knotted muscles loosened under his ministrations. 

“As long as you keep massaging me like that, you can talk all you want.” Pilan’s eyes rolled in her head, her healthy leg shuddering. 

“What did you find on the human’s bodies?” Arcturus asked, pressing into the muscle. He was amazed at how well muscled she was. He was almost running his hands along her for his pleasure as well. 

“Weapons, some money, and ragged clothing.” Djurjage answered, taking Okiba off her lap so the goblin could get her back. 

“That was all? Nothing else?” Arcturus asked, eyes intent on Pilan’s thick thigh as he gently worked the blood out of the fur without hurting the bruises below. 

“No’ much on ‘em.” Okiba replied, pushing in the sponge to get in the firbolg’s fur. “Why? Lookin’ fer sometin’ specif’c?”

Arcturus stopped working and got out of the water. He walked to the door and opened it. No one was in the hallway. Making sure the door was closed, he went back into the water and grabbed the sponge again, squeezing it between his hands. 

“Misha did kill Marion…but she wasn’t dead. When we were waiting out back, a headless creature that had been Marion. It had no head, but there was a mouth in her stomach. It opened wide, long, fanged teeth gnashing at us. It vomited black ichor that sizzled and burnt the ground. When we killed it…it vomited all over itself, melting all the way to nothing. All that was left was a pile of mush and…and that symbol.”

“Which symbol?” Pilan asked, guiding Arcturus’s sponge-filled hand to her abs.

“The…the Devourer.” The words came out in a whisper, but they dominated all sound in the room. 

“Where is it?” Misha asked, busy smearing healing cream on her cuts. 

“I melted it into slag. I couldn’t bring myself to pick it up.” Arcturus was shaking, both hands squeezing the sponge and pressing it into Pilan’s abs. He felt one of her legs wrap around him as the same arm pulled him into an awkward hug. He hadn’t realized how close to her body he had gotten till he was pressed between her thighs. 

“That makes me trust you more than even Djurjage’s word.” She patted his back with her injured arm. 

“Did Invara see?” Misha asked. Moving over to apply some of the healing balm to Pilan. 

“Yeah. She didn’t know what is was, and she only saw part of it. But she’s smart…she might figure out what is was.” Arcturus could feel himself getting aroused, being so close to Pilan. Biting the inside of his cheek, he tried to ignore his body’s reaction.

“If Thaynlyn finds out the attackers were led by a follower…we need to get out of town quickly. First light.” Djurjage decided. “Pilan, we need more information on where you found that symbol.”

“No problem…I’m coming with. This stuff is fantastic.” She ruffled Misha’s ears. “I’m feeling better already. Care to test my limits?” She winked at Arcturus, dropping a hand below the water and running it over his ass.

“I…I’m…” Arcturus sputtered, leaning into her chest to hide his face.

“Had a big night. Give him time.” Misha gently pulled Arcturus from Pilan’s grasp. 

“Fine, he can be just yours for a night more.” Pilan winked at her small battle sister. “But remember, sisters before misters.” She smiled.

“I know. This about him, not me.” Misha started applying more of the cream to Pilan’s wounds. 

Djurjage cleared her throat, trying to pull their attention back to the topic at hand. Pilan rolled her eyes and settled in the water. “I’m as surprised as you are to see the symbol here. The one I found was about two hundred miles East and one hundred North alone the coast. What would they gain from this?”

“Destabilization, death, fear. Aren’t those enough?” Djurjage replied. “They don’t care for the balance, just to feed their dead god.”

“Bu’ why would the’ attac’ when th’y knew the’d be slaughtad?” Okiba mused, floating lazily on her back. “Th’y’re tha ones who got killed. How does tha’ ‘elp ‘em?”

“It doesn’t.” Djurjage sighed. “I’ve got no idea what their motives are. They are crazy to follow that god. Maybe they’re all just crazy.” The rest of them nodded. Arcturus took the time to wash himself and treat the burns that still touched his body. He sat near the edge of the pool, trying to get some space in the warm water. 

Before he realized it, the two hours were over. They were drying off and getting into clean clothing. Djurjage handed some heavier clothing to Arcturus. “So you don’t have to feel uncomfortable.” She smiled at him, hoping he would accept the clothing. It was a long skirt, going halfway down his shins. The shirt, while loose and flowing, covered to his wrists and the dip on the neck didn’t expose too much of his chest, only enough to help with air flow.

“Thank you.” He smiled back. He was thinking there was no underwear when a piece of felt backed leather fell from the bundle. He picked it up. “A thong?” He asked, confused.

“Combat Thong. Brand new.” Misha purred out, shaking her hips to get her pants around them. Arcturus realized they were all holding in laughs. He also had no choice but to go with it, as he didn’t like the feeling of running without something to hold his flopping appendages. Closing his eyes, he pulled the thong on, then the skirt and shirt they provided him with. The clothing was red and yellow, the same color as his gloves.

Djurjage opened the door, armor gleaming now that it had been cleaned. Noise burst into their faces as the door opened. People were screaming. A neko streaked by, his fur still soaking wet. Djurjage’s hand was a blur as she reached out and grabbed the first person to pass by. The merwoman screamed in panic till she realized she was looking at a firbolg templar. 

“Help us! They’re going crazy!” The Rai practically fell in her arms. Purple blood was leaking from a long scrape down her side. Okiba pushed forwards and started muttering, the wound closing slowly. 

“Who’s going crazy?” Djurjage asked, pulling out her hammer. The merwoman pointed to Arcturus. 

“Them! Kill it before it turns.” She backed away, healing unfinished. Okiba tried to follow her till Djurjage placed a hand on her shoulders.

“Don’t. We need to stick together.” She led the way to one of the rooms where there were screams coming. 

There was blood everywhere except in the water, the magic in the pool still working. Inside of the pool were a skink-like saurian and a chitin covered, six limbed figure, one of the Pula, a hive-like folk from the equatorial parts of the world. Both were torn in pieces, limbs and organs flung randomly around the room. In the pool was a dwarf, screaming as a creature tore into his neck with a large, fang filled maw. The figure looked human, but there was black ichor flowing from rents in its body, large veins and masses of flesh pulsing and writhing. 

The head was covered by this same flesh and the mouth was larger than any human mouth, and the fangs were each as long as a belt knife, and just as sharp. The dwarf’s screams were cut short as the head whipped to one side, ripping the dwarf’s head off. As it turned around and noticed the intruders, a beam of radiant energy slammed into it, burning away the corruption. Flames erupted from the creature, being smothered almost immediately by the water. The creature screamed ad them and surged forwards. Two thick, heavy blades chopped down, removing the head and legs from the torso. The creature’s parts writhed on the ground, eventually dissolving from their own ichor till only a puddle of sludge was left. 

“Arcturus, stay with me.” Djurjage ordered. “Pilan, you take Misha and Okiba and clear the rest of the rooms. I’m going to take stock of the situation.” The battle sisters nodded, hefting their large blades and running to the next room. Okiba followed more sedately, her scepter glowing with pink, divine energy. 

Djurjage led the way to the front desk. People were streaming out of the building, joining a general confusion and panic that seemed to be wracking the streets. The woman at the front desk was cowering in fear, eyes wide in panic. They widened impossibly farther when she saw Arcturus, webbed hands pressed against her mouth. There were more screams coming from the far side, where the public bath was. 

The room was dominated by one large pool, with benches and smaller baths for cleansing around the sides. The room was in pandemonium as humans were turning into these creatures and attacking the patrons. Dozens were injured or dead, while scores more were fleeing. Arcturus noted that some of the people fleeing were humans. 

“Over there.” Djurjage had lost the normal control in her voice. Arcturus followed her hand. On the far side of the pool was a human in priestly robes with a black iron morion, the face a smooth expanse of marble grey. Two horns extended from the top of the grey expanse. In one hand was a dagger made to look like a fang, and the other held a stylized gothic chalice. As they watched, the figure dipped the fang in the chalice, a black viscous liquid coating the blade. They swung the blade at the water, the ichor landing in the clean expanse of blue. To their horror, the ichor did not dissipate but traveled to the closest human, a young woman with light blond hair. As the ichor touched her, it disappeared inside her and she started convulsing. 

The priest turned to one of the people still in the pool. Arcturus recognized the woman by her hair as much as her belly. It was Lily. Beside her was a large orc, towering over her as he held off two of the creatures, protecting his pregnant love. She was having a difficult time leaving the pool, as the wet ground and her pregnant belly made it hard to leave anywhere but a set of stairs, the closest of which were fifteen feet away. 

“Help the Orc.” Arcturus called. He sprinted forwards, forcing what little power he had left into his feet. He felt himself rise slightly from the ground. As he ran over the pool, he stayed just above the surface. He brought his hand forwards in a slashing motion, snapping his fingers and sending a bolt of fire into the priest’s chest. The humans stumbled, trying to keep the chalice from spilling. 

Arcturus flew across the pool, sending bolt after bolt of flames at the priest. Now that he wasn’t surprised, he seemed to be blocking or dodging the fire. Djurjage was following a little slower, having to maneuver around fleeing patrons and worry about the slick ground. 

Arcturus jumped as a spray of black ichor was flicked at him. He was within striking distance. Pouring more power into his spell, he became a blur as time seemed to slow for him. His fist was wreathed in flame as he came within striking distance of the priest. As his fist impacted the priest, he released his spell, causing a concussive blast of compressed air and flame, sending the priest flying into the wall. There was a sickening crunch as his bones broke against the tile. 

Pain seared through Arcturus. The ichor in the chalice had sprayed onto him as the priest flew backwards. He could feel the cloying influence burn into him, the unending hunger try to consume him. Turning. He could see the orc still wrestling with the two creatures as Lily attempted to get away. Snarling in pain, he dove at the two creatures, bringing all four of them into the hot water. As they surfaced, Arcturus realized he was between the orc and the creatures. “Get Lily to safety!” He was glad the orc didn’t question where he had come from but took his pregnant love in his arms and made for the exit. 

A bellow interrupted Arcturus’s next attack as Djurjage plowed into the combat, hammer pulverizing one of the creature’s heads. Holy green light shown on her weapon as she turned it from a nightmare creature into a sack of shattered bones and meat. The second creature jumped onto the templar, trying to get within her weapon’s reach and bite her. 

Pain flooded Arcturus as he fought the hunger gnawing within him. He tried to move in to help Djurjage, but every movement sent needles through all his nerves. Sparks and flames wreathed his body, striking out haphazardly around the room. Steam and dust filled the air wherever the energy touched. 

The rest of their party poured in the room, having cleared the private rooms. Radiant light burned away the creature attacking Djurjage as large blades carved through the flesh of other monstrosities. It took less than a minute for the group to clear the room. 

“What in the Sunstone happened?” Pilan gasped out, a smile on her exhausted face.

“Devourer.” Okiba, her arms shaking from fear, lifted the mask of the fallen priest. “Demon blood, demon fang…thi’ was a full incursion attemp’.”

“How’d you figure that?” Djurjage asked, looking around. She noticed Arcturus was sitting in the pool, curled in the fetal position, face wracked in pain. “Arcturus?” Her voice hitched an octave. She didn't see any blood. Her hammer came flashing up. She had seen what the ichor did to the other humans. What if Arcturus had been splashed? 

“If th’ Devourer can claim enough carnage, ‘is minions can come through.” They looked at the bathhouse turned abattoir. 

“Is this not enough?” Pilan asked. Okiba shook her head. 

“Arcturus, can you hear me?” Djurjage waded through the water. Holding her hammer ready to strike, she turned the fetal human over. “Shit! Okiba, he got some of the ichor on him. How do we remove it!”

The cleric was silent. They all looked at her, waiting for her diagnosis. “I don’ know.”


	10. Chapter 10

The world was shaking. Dark and shaking. It wasn’t a constant shaking, it came at random intervals with a wide variance of drops and rises. Arcturus’s world consisted of this movement for an unknowable amount of time. The noise came next. The rumble of studded steel wheels on gravel road, the clopping of hooves, and the chatter of voices. All of these assaulted his ears, filling him with nothing but pain. Minutes dragged on as he started pulling the sounds apart and blocking them out till they no longer caused flashes of pain in his mind.

Scents populated the world. The smell of linens and medicine was overpowering. He could smell cucumber, heather, and an overwhelming astringent smell. He could also smell rotting fruit and meat. Slowly, the astringent smell gave way to the smell of rot. He tried to bring his arms up to move away whatever was causing the smell. His limbs could barely move. Arcturus started to struggle. He felt a pressure against his wrists, ankles, head, and neck. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but his throat was raw and only a slight rattle came out.

“Don’t speak. Too injured.” Misha’s voice crashed into his mind. He was still in the dark, unable to open his gummed-up eyes. “Drink now.” She pried his mouth open and a thick liquid poured into his mouth, slowly sliding down his throat. It was warm and comforting, but he couldn’t manage more than two mouthfuls before his stomach roiled. “Sleep.” He felt the lips on her muzzle press against his. The world faded from his consciousness. 

When he next woke, he felt warmth all around him. The motion had stopped, but he was still strapped down. He could feel the scales of Misha against his right side, her muzzle nuzzling his chest and her tail wrapped possessively around his leg. On the other side was someone larger than him, and fuzzy. He felt a burst of hot air against his face, and a long, wide tongue lick his face. There was a loud, lowing yawn and a muzzle with a large nose ring pressed against him. He figured that had to be Pilan. Djurjage didn’t have a nose ring.

There was a fire crackling nearby. A finger tapped his forehead. Opening his eyes was a struggle. The night sky slowly materialized above him. Everything swam, the stars and trees swaying and blurring. He closed his eyes. Another poke. This time, when he opened his eyes, the world was still. Looking as far as he could to either side, he was gratified to know that he had been right, that Misha and Pilan were the two around him. Both were fast asleep, and neither of their hands were near his forehead. He saw the finger poke him again, this time a face also appeared. It was the same half-masked figure that had given him the amulet.

“Well, you did what I wanted…sort of.” They shrugged. “The building didn’t burn down, but you killed who I wanted you to, although it would have been safer if you killed them when I first asked you to.”

“Why didn’t just tell me to kill her then? Why did you show me the second house too?” Arcturus was in no mood to be patronized.

“Because, I need you to obey me when I ask you for something. Besides…I couldn’t.” The figure sighed. “Ever since the Upheaval…we cannot directly interfere…it’s very confusing if you weren’t there. Just know that I need you to obey when I give you instructions. I’m not a wicked master, no matter how callous I may seem.”

“Are you involving yourself because of the Devourer?” Silence followed. Arcturus felt he might have overstepped his bounds with that question.

“No god ever truly dies. Enough followers or offerings can bring it back to life.” The figure walked away and disappeared.

“How big an offering?” Arcturus called out. 

“Mmmm…yer big enough to be an offering.” Pilan shoved her nose into his neck and breathed in deeply. One of her large hands grabbed his hip and squeezed, sending a shiver down her body. Arcturus rolled his eyes. He could tell why Misha and Pilan got along. They had similar, simple tastes.

“Misha happy with offering.” Misha purred on his other side. A large growl erupted from his stomach, dragging on for nearly a minute. Misha and Pilan both sprang awake, hands grabbing knives hidden below the bed Arcturus was strapped to. 

“Someone’s finally awake.” Pilan chuckled. “Jage, can we get something for Arcturus to eat?” Heavy footsteps brought Djurjage into view. 

“Are you feeling hungry?” Djurjage’s frown was deeper than normal. There was a fresh bite on her forearm. 

Arcturus tried to break eye contact. “No.” His stomach gurgled violently.

“Are you sure?” Djurjage’s voice was pleasant, despite the frown on her face.

“Maybe broth?” He offered. Djurjage was silent for a moment before releasing his head. 

“If you try to eat my flesh again, I will end you.” She growled in his ear. She released his hands one at a time. By the time his legs were released, he could feel his muscles cramping. Pilan picked him up from the wagon and placed him near the fire. “Now, eat this.” She handed him a bowl with thick broth in it, almost a slurry in consistency. Arcturus tried to ignore the taste as he choked it down.

“Who were ya talkin’ ta?” Okiba asked, stirring up the fire. “Ya said somt’in’ about an offering.”

Arcturus looked at the food in front of him, unsure if he wanted to speak. Djurjage cleared her throat and looked at him pointedly. He nodded. “It was my patron. The one who gave me the gloves, the book, and the amulet. They…they wanted me to know they were disappointed that I didn’t act right away, that I waited. They made it clear that no god can actually die, and hinted that the Devourer, and all the others gods can be brought back if they have enough offerings or followers.” 

The only noise was the crackling of the fire and the occasional hiss of fat spurting from the meat cooking on the spit. “Seems you’ve made a habit of disappointing your patrons.” Djurjage replied off-handedly. She narrowed her eyes. “Still, I’m glad you didn’t light off too early. I honestly doubt we would have found out about this, or been in a position to stop it, had you burned the first building.”  
Arcturus looked around, letting the disappointment from Djurjage wash past him. “Where are we?”

“Ivory Coast. Turned north yesterday.” Misha licked her lips as she turned the spit. She poked it with a knife, causing some juice to fall from the heating meat. “You sleep for a week.” Arcturus’s head swum, causing him to fall against Pilan.

“The demon ichor nearly killed you.” Djurjage’s anger seemed to melt away. “I thought it was going to turn you.”

“Shoulda’ seen ‘er fret ove’ ya.” Okiba was stirring something in a cauldron. “Like ya were a lover, no’ jus’ a slave or even a frien’.”

“Shut it. I need him for my mission. Nothing more.” Djurjage turned around, shoulders hunched. 

“I was out for a week!” Arcturus had finally regained his voice. He scrabbled weakly at the shirt. Pilan helped him remove it. His chest was a mass of red, angry tissue, still sensitive to the touch. “If I was that badly hurt, why were we moving?”

The silence grew around the campfire again. Djurjage pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it over. “Did you ever learn to read?” Arcturus shook his head. As he looked at the paper, the meaning of the words filtered into his mind.

“They put a bounty on all humans?” His vision swam as the news hit him, body wobbling in Pilan’s gentle grasp. “What happened after I passed out?”

They all looked at him curiously. “There were two more attacks. More people were killed and the whole guard force had to be mobilized.” Pilan muttered. “Quiet a few berserkers and templars joined the fight as well. We rushed you to the Great Tree right away. The next morning, we heard the decree. All humans in town were open to this bounty.” 

He looked back at the sheet. It showed one Talon per human head brought in, one Scale with evidence to prove they were committing illegal activities. Arcturus thought to all the people he had seen, as well as the farmlands outside the city. Djurjage seemed to sense what he was thinking.

“There was pandemonium. Many people were trying to flee the city with their humans.” She looked down. “I’m glad you were unconscious. It’s not a sight anyone should have had to witness. From messages I received, the town was in upheaval for two days. The farms were hit hard.” 

“Woman you saved got away.” Misha added. “Most battle brothers and sisters got humans away.” A small smile twitched on his face. He nodded, still too dissociated from his body to reply more. 

“We’re almost there.” Djurjage’s voice was soft. “We need to find where these cultists are coming from before it spreads much farther. Thankfully, there has been no word in any other city about these cultists.” She grabbed more of the thick broth and brought it to Arcturus. Sitting down, she helped Pilan settle Arcturus in her lap. As everyone moved away, Djurjage whispered in his ear as she tried to feed him more. Too shocked to resist, Arcturus let himself be nursed by Djurjage without any resistance. He huddled into her, trying to block out the information he had been given. 

Another four days passed before they reached their destination. Arcturus kept to himself the whole time, only speaking when directly asked a question, and that only a few words. He did what he was asked to, but the rest of the group left him to his turmoil. At night, Misha and Pilan bunked with him, content to merely lay against each other. Misha hung as near Arcturus as she could, a mix between infatuation and concern keeping her from leaving his side for long.

Arcturus had never seen the ocean before. Two days before reaching the city of Reef they finally broke through the trees and got a view of the ocean. Arcturus was sitting up with Djurjage as she drove the wagon. He gasped in surprise, the first voluntary noise he had made since the news. “Beautiful?” Misha asked, laying her head on his shoulder.

“It’s…it’s so large!” He gasped. Misha wrapped her arms around him from behind. “I’ve never seen anything so large.”

“Ocean is lovely. And dangerous.” She nuzzled against him. Arcturus returned the gesture. He caught himself remembering Lily and chuckled. “Laughing! It’s lovely to hear.”

“Yeah, cracking up there?” Pilan asked as she lounged in the bed of the wagon.

“No, just thinking of the pregnant woman I saved. She admonished me for judging her since she was pregnant with her master’s child. And now I’m here, travelling and cozying up with my master and her friends…for all we know, Misha could have fertilized eggs.” He gazed out across the ocean. “And now, a whole population of humans has been slaughtered and here I am, stunned at the beauty of the ocean. I guess she was right. We can learn to live with things.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to live with this for long.” Djurjage placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed. “Either we find out what’s going on and shut it down quickly, or we die trying.” A fatalistic smile spread on her face.

“Juss wha’ we need ta boost moral.” Okiba rolled her eyes as she worked on carving a staff. 

Arcturus kept his eyes on the ocean for most of the next few days. When they finally got in view of the city of Reef, Arcturus nearly fell off the wagon. He had assumed it was called Reef because there was a reef near it. He didn’t expect the city itself to be a reef. There were walkways and canals everywhere. The buildings were all made of living coral reef. Small sailing boats covered the water like a swarm of insects, with the larger sentinels of the trading ships and navy adding texture to the tableaus.

As they got to the edge of the city, Arcturus realized there were people swimming in the water. The more aquatic of the saurian and Rai folk were using the canals and even going into shops that appeared to be underwater. There were fewer humans in this city, but Arcturus could see he wasn’t going to stand out. Many of the humans here were ship slaves, but those rarely left their ships. That left most of the slaves as personal ones, and they were dressed as such. 

“Come on, let’s get set up and I’ll take you where we found the symbol.” Pilan flipped herself out of the wagon and lead the way to the town. A pair of Rai stopped them, but let them pass just as quickly. Rather than lead them to an inn, Pilan led them to her temple. Unlike the last one, which was a large stone carved building, this one was a mass of basalt-looking coral surrounded by an open air standing kelp forest. 

“Should I stay out here?” Arcturus remembered from the last temple. Pilan’s tongue played with her nose ring as she thought. 

“You all can stay in the guest house, but only battlekin can enter the temple itself.” She pointed out a long, low building for them to stay in. “I need to go see if there is room for us here. Come on Misha.” Misha gave a token resistance, holding onto Arcturus before letting Pilan pluck her up and rest the kobold on her broad shoulders.

“Na’ ta be a downa’, bu’ can ya’ use a weapon?” Okiba asked Arcturus. “Th’ flail ya’ used looked more like it was usin’ ya. An’ in th’ bathhouse, ya’ were punchin’ everythin’.”

“Not really. I only chose the flail because I had used ones like it for threshing. The taskmasters on the farms weren’t in the habit of training slaves to use weapons.” He looked at the lounging goblin. She was wearing a long tank top that went to her knees to combat the heat, the sides slit enough to only be held together around her waist. Even in her supine position, an observer could only see a tease of her curves. She was still carving the staff, working on a bird’s head ay the top of the staff.

“Tha’s fine. Ya’ can use this.” She wiggled the staff at him. “We ‘ave enough people smackin’ ‘round. Ya’ can stay wit me.” She winked at him. 

“Really?” Djurjage tossed her hands in the air. “Am I the only one who doesn’t have sex on their minds.” Okiba dropped her knife and the staff as she broke out laughing, clutching her middle as spasms wracked her body. “You know what I mean.” She turned away, fur bristling. 

Arcturus raised an eyebrow as Djurjage walked over to one of the stands of kelp somehow floating in air, but he kept his mouth shut about that. “You didn’t need to make a staff for me.” He looked at the carvings. While no one would think a professional made them, he enjoyed the flames licking up the sides and the care it seemed she was talking with her carvings. 

“It’ll be easier ta cast wit ‘dis.” She handed him the staff. It was slightly taller than Arcturus, with a heavy bird head on the top and a metal butt shaped like a flame on the bottom. “Don’ worry abou’ th’ cost. I used th’ winnin’ from ya’ match ta pay fer it.”

“Oh.” He honestly hadn’t been thinking about the cost, but it was nice to know she wasn’t going to hold it over him. “Thanks.”

“Now, if ya’ wanna show yer thanks…” She shifted position, opening her legs as she continued to work on the staff. The front of her tank top slid between her legs, clearly showing the outline of her mound, the deep green of her skin creating a tunnel with a thin gray curtain at the end, providing the barest amount of modesty that she was tempting him to rip away.

Arcturus sat back, chuckling. They waited nearly half an hour before Misha and Pilan came out from the temple. They led them over to the guest quarters and set them up in one of the smaller rooms. It was a single room, the entire floor made of different sponges while coral protrusions provided places to hang their equipment and supplies. In one corner, there was a continuous waterfall that Pilan told them was used for bathing and sanitation. 

“The amulet was found in a ruin only a few hours out of town. We had been getting merrow raids from there and I found it. There were a few humans there as well, but none of them looked in good shape. We just assumed they were taken during the raids.” Pilan shrugged, dousing her head under the running water. 

“Let’s leave right away. I’ve had my fill of civilization and street fighting for the next few months.” Djurjage leaned back, popping her spine. “We can celebrate when we finish.” She thrust her head into the water along with Pilan. 

“Misha and I’ll head ta get some supplies fer the trip.” Okiba leaned the staff against the wall. 

“Take Arcturus, he can help carry some things. Besides, he won’t be of any use here.” Djurjage shook her head, spraying water from her neon hair. Misha clambered onto Arcturus’s shoulders and ran her fingers through his hair. Her tail was beating against him rhythmically, exposing her giddiness at riding his shoulders again. 

“You know you’ll have to get down if you want me to carry anything.” Arcturus said as they left the building.

“I know. Just happy when touching you.” Misha wrapped her tail around one of his arms.

“She’ll prob’ly be like th’s till she drops an egg.” Okiba teased, gently pulling the kobold’s tail.

“Won’t drop egg. Had sex with humans many times and never dropped egg. Only with saurian, and always smart about sex.” She jostled a pouch at her hip. “Plenty of condoms.”

Arcturus looked up at Misha. “Didn’t you say…” He started to whisper before her tail slapped against his back, interrupting him. 

“Try here.” She said, quickly trying to change the conversation. They looked at the general goods store. A sign hung above it proclaiming the name was “Argama’s Bounty”. As the entered the coral building, they saw they were in a small warehouse style area, with food and supplies arrayed all before them. A Rai man stood behind the counter twenty feet in front of them, a bored smile on his face.  
“Good afternoon! Welcome to the Bounty. Is there anything specific you’re looking for?” He asked, rocking on his feet. It was clear he was bored, as the store seemed to only have a few people at this hour.  
“Need travel supplies. Three days food for five. Ropes, climbing gear, spelunking gear.” Misha told him from her perch.

“I coul’ use some healin’ gear. Got anythin’ like th’t?” Okiba asked.

The man nodded. “Of course. All of our food is over this way. If you would like, we have some pre-made provision packs, or you can pack your own.” He showed them large, buffet-style trays where some people were measuring out food for rations. Next to them were packages that looked to be pre-made travel rations. Next he showed them the gear they had requested. The Rai kept looking at Arcturus from the corner of his eye. 

After the fourth time this happened, Arcturus felt like he needed to speak up. He opened his mouth to speak when Misha’s tail slapped against his back again. He turned to her, confused why she hit him. “Have question?” She chirped at him. “Ask me first.” She stared at him intently. It took a few moments for him to realize what she was getting at. He had gotten so used to talking freely with Djurjage’s group that he forgot he could be punished for speaking out of turn.

“He keeps glancing at me.” Arcturus whispered. “Something feels off.” 

Misha looked at the Rai and back to Arcturus. “Want him to stop?” She turned to the Rai who was helping them pick out the equipment they had asked for. He glanced again at Arcturus. “Have problem with him?” She asked the clerk. 

The Rai cleared his throat, ears twitching nervously. “What? N…no, not at all.” He started gathering the times they were ordering and moving them into lightweight crates. 

Okiba and Misha giggled as he walked away. “Tha’ one there likes ya.” Okiba jabbed an elbow into his thigh. She grabbed the box of ration packets she had been filling and lifted it with a groan. “Canno’ wai’ till I c’n summ’n our f’d.” She grunted out as the box nearly toppled her. “Damn…minotaurs.” She moved to the checkout counter and dropped the box on it, making a loud crash. “Ya’ carryin’ th’s one.” She pointed to Misha.

Misha hrumphed and slid off Arcturus’s back. She sauntered over to the counter, smug look on her face. “One hand cart.” The Rai ran off and came back with a flat-bottomed hand cart, large enough to carry everything they were purchasing. Holding her tail high, she loaded it up one box at a time as Okiba paid. As Misha pulled the cart, muscles bulging, she continued to hold her tail up, the tip wagging back and forth like a strutting cat. 

“Jus’ ya wait, Imma’ get ‘er back f’r th’s.” Okiba grumbled under he breath. She grabbed Arcturus and towed him after her. One last look let Arcturus see the Rai checking him out, a slight flush on his coppery cheeks. It didn’t take long for them to catch up to Misha, who handed the cart off to Arcturus before turning to lead the way, still strutting. 

“Got everything?” Djurjage asked as she saw them walk back into the yard.

“Yup!” Misha chirped, almost too happily. Djurjage looked at the scowling Okiba and shook her head. “Got food and gear. Arcturus found admirer.” Her hand fell to her belly unconsciously. Ten minutes later, they were loaded up and leaving the temple, heading for the caverns that Pilan had found.


End file.
